Rose Born in Blood
by Varangue
Summary: Create a rose on a good soil it grow to be a beautiful flower, one in the middle of stones it become one full with thorns. one in the desert it will become callous. One in blood... by the gods what have you done,Gehrman?
1. Something begin

**Beta by Bellum Gerere**

 **Time breaks everything, the most beautiful maiden becomes a disgusting hag, the most precious blood becomes the most tainted, a zealot becomes a skeptic and a hunter becomes no different from what it hunts…..(SantyKingr, Mortality a hidden gift? Yharnam,)**

 **Rose Born in Blood**

He wanted to rest. The only thing that propelled him now was duty, but he'd been here for so long that perhaps he'd already died. In the end what was left of him? Just a corpse, a puppet, no will of it's own. No friends, family, beloved... Not so different from a beast, even being one would be a better the his current situation.

In the middle of a field of flowers two figures were locked in place, the two waiting for the movement of the other, a hunter at a left side and the first of the hunters at the right side, a young man and old one, so many titles. It all stopped mattering when the hunter dodged to the left, anxious to end this quickly. The other shot, more of instinct, the bullet right the target making it's target stumble. The shooter prepared a charge attack, even his weapon being a scythe, a farming tool, didn't mean that wouldn't be deadly. The young man recovered and injected a blood vial, the wound of the shot started to close. The old man released the attack and it caught his opponent by surprise, making a small smile appear on the mouth of the first of the hunters at the despair in his enemy's face. There was no time to dodge; even though he wanted to lose, the old man still enjoyed the fight, sometimes he wondered for how long. His enemy had been cut and fell to the ground, crushing flowers. The hunter got up quickly. Still young, still energetic. He passed a fire paper over his weapon, a threaded cane and transformed it into a whip. A good tactic against others, but not against the old man. As such he returned his scythe to a curved sword and pressed forward, unleashing a succession of slashes that the young man dodged, responding with an attack from the whip.

The pain was great, but the old man ignored it as he always did and always would. Pain was temporary. Death wasn't. Thankfully, the young man hadn't expected, for his opponent to not be affect by an attack and even more to the response, a quick the shot to the chest. He stumbled again, the distance closed quickly by his enemy that had already sheathed the gun and now was using his weapon back to two hands The young man tried to deliver an attack to fend off the incoming danger. It would work for other hunters, but against the first hunter, it was useless. He was quicker, slashing the young man's chest and followed with another strike. His enemy has already fallen, already weaker. Unexpected. Considering what had passed, the first hunter expected more. But the young man was on the ground; the perfect opportunity to finish him once more.

But he didn't stay down for long. Good _,_ _the old man wanted him_ _continue to fight_ _ing_. A more sincere smile appeared on the first hunter. He wanted this to end, and this young man… this hunter, could end it. Almost agreeing with his thoughts, He got up and attacked. A step back and a missed attack, but the young man still managed to recover some health from the attacks if only a chance to breath, to give some distance between the two. Unfortunately for him, his foe didn't move back for fear of his attack, or the damage that would do. He was close to the old man, tired from getting up and attacking. He had no stamina to move back, and his foe? Well, that was his plan all along: let his enemy overextend.

Before the young hunter could follow-up with another attack or recuperate, the old hunter shot as his foe, not giving a moment he jumped closer to deliver one more attack. Desperate, the young man started to inject another blood vial, hoping his opponent wouldn't reach him. In a moment, the distance closed and a slash delivered. Blood spilled from the young man's chest. Another slash and shot followed, and another…The bleeding young man jumped to the side, dodging the shot. He had more stamina than the old man thought, and still a bit of strength for the damage he was now sustaining. He didn't only jump once but manage to retreat a fair distance from the first hunter. By now, the young hunter had noticed the range of the attacks of its foe, and expected that this distance was enough for a safe heal.

Again he was wrong, because his foe could transform his weapon back to a scythe and simply prepare a charging attack. The first hunter prepared his legs and jumped forward. The young man could dodge. This was not the first time he'd died by this attack, and the old man expect it wouldn't manage to hit him. The old man had to kill him, but this was his duty, not his will. His will was to die. In just one moment, as if by magic, he was in front of the young man, the scythe ready to cut his head. No, thought the old man… _NO_. The young man jumped backwards in a desperate attempt. The first hunter tried to not complete the attack, but his body continued; the range of the scythe reached him….. and a head rolled in the flowers on the ground.

He started to fade away, and the old man enjoyed the peace while the dream healed his wounds and lamented another lost chance to escape his suffering. As always, he put his weapon back in its blade mode. How many times had he done this? Too many.

A few moments later, the young hunter reentered the garden one more time. One more chance to free the first hunter, but….No. _NO_. He had his hands up in surrender, and as he spoke, the old man knew what he would say the same as hundreds had told him before.

"Gehrman, I give up. I submit my life to you.'' He dropped to his knees as the words left his mouth, placing his cane and a plank shield in front of him. The old man reformed its blade into a scythe, preparing to do the deed. How many times had he done it? Seven hundred? Two hundred? He stopped to try to account for the numbers, but it was best to not remember lost chances at freedom. As he slashed, the body of the young man fell to the ground, but not decapitated—there was no head or body. The killing was symbolic, but for what or why? Long had he stopped caring. Just another symbol of his failure, and continuation of his nightmare. He could feel the power of the dream leaving his old body; the joints started to hurt again, the arms felt weak once more, and his energy faded away. The wheelchair appeared next to him, his prison. He sat down as the blunderbuss and scythe disappeared and a cane appeared in his lap, the weapons only to return if he needed to face another hunter, unarmed until she decided to grant him the weapons again.

As he stayed there he had to ask: why did the young hunter give up? He was so successful, his hunt one of the hardest anyone had seen, and he had lived through hundreds of deaths. According to the False, he had gained more blood echoes than even Eileen from beasts and fallen hunters. He had manage to make his weapon a deadly threat by adding the strongest stones and gems. He had somehow retrieved the armor of a Cainhurst Knight and he had the strength to fight with one without getting slow down by her, and he was stocked with enough blood vials and quicksilver bullets to last him several lifetimes, as well as fire and bolt papers, which he was more careful to keep. Being so curious about the dream, it was no surprise that he would not simply accept being killed, and demanded answers. When they began to fight, the old man would finally have release. This hunter would do it, he would free him; but it was only so long before he gave up.

It wasn't the old man's fault that he fought without hesitation. She and the dream demanded it. In the beginning, he tried to simply let himself be killed, but his body moved regardless of his intentions, as a puppet is controlled by its master. If he didn't want to fight, she would make him fight, and since it was best to have some kind of control of his actions, he eventually gave in and accepted the fight. At least in those small moments he was free. She had already taken too much.

When the fight began, the dream gave him power, the agility and strength of his golden years where she was there….so beautiful. He became so fast and strong that it was almost impossible for his enemies to land even one blow on him. But it was horrible. He simply couldn't be defeated, even by the other hunters whose chances were infinite, who would learn his patterns of attack after so many tries, but….. They always gave up. Always. And he continued to suffer….

But this time, everything was perfect. He would finally be released. Again, he was wrong. This hunter had failed, had given up. Now he would have to wait, and that was the worst part. The nothing. The wait. Eventually another hunter would come, but for now, he could only sit on his chair, cage, doing nothing, incapable of resting, only to suffer.

"Come here, False," he called. "This hunter has submitted." And she appeared, her visage an affront to her memory, the same skin, the same hair, the same face. But her clothes. The constant reminder of the first hunter's failures. A large cape covered her shoulders, a brown one with a lot of frills and strange designs. She would never wear that cape; she preferred things simple. Then a corset she would never allow herself to be constrained by. She always talked about how she hated to wear them during her times at the castle. Just the False wearing it was an affront. Of course, it wasn't the only affront. Her legs were covered by a large skirt, one that would restrict her movements, something that a hunter knew was a death sentence. That was why she didn't wear them, but not the False. It needed to mock him, to look like his love, but it was only a lie, a reminder of his lost one.

Normally, he would have shot her. In this nightmare, he was always allowed a pistol. When he'd first discovered it, he tried to end this (a coward's way, but he was desperate), but it didn't shoot. Another mockery. But after the fight, he was too tired.

She wheeled him out of the garden, which had been destroyed during the fight. Many of the flowers were crushed and some of the tombstones surrounding the wide-open space were destroyed. As they left, it began to reform itself, the flowers bursting out of the ground and the crucifixes reforming before his eyes. A great vision but after so much time it meant only another failure. When they had reached the entrance of the workshop, the door back into the garden closed. It would only open again at the end of a hunt, when the first hunter would offer a choice to another and pray that he fought, his only chance of escape. He could see the clearing in the middle, the place where it all began, and those memories suffocated him.

* * *

The sun was bright, and the hunt the day before had been a uneventful, despite a conflict with the Healing Church's hunters. They had demanded the cemetery on the outskirts of Yharnam that they had been clearing was property of the Church and they would clean it not his workshop. After much heated debate, he'd decided it was best to just let them have it, and sent his hunters to patrol the streets instead, where they eventually cleared out an infected clinic. Hunt after hunt this Church Hunter were claiming more exclusive place where only the could clean of beasts. Why this fight the beast were enemies of everyone? Of course the Church was making its move to take the hunt of the hand of his workshop to theirs, greedy bastards, always wanting more power.

Now it wasn't time to get angry, she always said that anger made him ugly, now it was the time to repair and clean the weapons the sun had appeared, the hunters had left his weapons in the workshop and gone home she too. Carrying hunters' weapons was prohibited—the Council didn't want ordinary people seeing them, as it might tear the stability of the city. But the Church hunters would be allowed. He could see the Church slowly infecting the Council with its corrupted influence by too trying to take control of the hunt, but he let it alone. His job was to hunt beasts, not get mixed up in politics and more he didn't have any power technically she could had power she was a member of the Cainhurst they still had a lot of power in the city and if he asked she would do it…..but she said that she didn't want any more contact with them and he would never impose anything on her, never.

He cleaned the weapons, counted his bullets and blood vials, to prepare for the next hunt and see which supplies are going to be replenished. It was his job, and he took it seriously the master of the workshop such a pompous title for basically an account of the supplies according to her. Took some time to clean everything and adjust everything he could leave, but before he could prepare to leave, he saw that in the intrance the workshop, a man. Not any time of man of course as he wasn't dressed as one of the common folk of Yharnam his robes were blue and white as the colors of the sky and the clouds, and there was a strange pattern on there back not so strange as what this man studied. He carried a staff shaped like a tree why in that shape? As Gehrman had learned a long time ago with this man it was better to not ask and he wore a tall hat with a visor that covered his eyes. It was Provost Willem, the head of Byrgenwerth School one of the last persons that he expected to met this day especially in his workshop

"Gehrman. Lovely to see you. A beautiful day, don't you think?"

"Of course, Master Willem. Perhaps you would want to talk somewhere more comfortable? We have much to discuss."

"Of course. Lead the way." He led him into the house, where he brought a couple of chairs to a clearing outside the house in the garden a very comfy place where he had wonderful talks with she he didn't want to desecrate this place with so many memories with her with this man. Unfortunately it was the only place in the workshop that was adequate for Willem position. As the head of the most important school in Yharnam, Gehrman couldn't treat him bad as talk to him in the middle of an old and dirty workshop, a man respected as Willem must have a good treatment. If he didn't do that and the word get around that Gehrman showed disrespect to Master Willem, his workshop would lose a lot of his backers and support on the council and in the present moment that would be risky….he hated politics.

Well, he isn't here to discuss the weather and he had already passed the social protocol he hadn't any important business to discuss with Willem, he just wanted him gone. Let's hear what he wants. He sat down in his chair, and Willem followed suit.

"Now, Master Willem, what business have you here?"

"I cannot come simply to visit an old friend?"

"You would have me believe that you left Byrgenwerth and crossed the forest, a dangerous enough place, simply to say hello? What do you really want?"

"Ah, Gehrman. Always straight to the point. A rare quality in a man these days. I came because I have a proposal for you. Tell me, what do you know about the Old Ones?"

His brow furrowed in confusion, but he answered without hesitation. "They are ancient beings, and sought out by Byrgenwerth and the Healing Church. I don't know why, and frankly, I don't care, since they do not interfere with the hunt. But I did hear some rumors that the Church had managed to speak to one of them. A being called Ebrietas of course just rumors that in the end are true I don't care, it don't affect the hunt as such not affect me."

"Apparently the security Laurence put there was not as good as he claimed. They are more than ancient, they are far more evolved than us. They can create entire worlds and transport themselves between them. We can speak to them, but cannot comprehend their responses."

"Very beautiful, but what does this have to do with anything? You didn't come here simply to discuss the concept."

"Apologies. I do tend to lose myself when I think of these incredible beings. I apologize for the questions, but again I must beg your knowledge. The fishing hamlet, what do you know of it?"

"I've never heard of it. I suppose it would be a fishing village."

"Always the sarcastic type. It's a small village located about three days' journey from Yharnam, only a hundred eighty-seven inhabitants. Two months ago, something fell from the sky near this village. An amateur astronomer named Jon Cruz was it, and believed it was a meteorite until he was able to look at it."

"Le me guess it wasn't a meteorite?"

"Yes but at first glance, he didn't know. He sent a letter to Byrgenwerth asking for guidance, in response we send one of our scholars whose name now it isn't important, what is important is that when it was examined it concluded that it was a living creature that, after landing in the ocean, had been dragged back to the beach. When our scholar examined it, he noted there were small creatures living off the carcass, and he extracted one of them and sent it to us, saying he preferred not to examine it closer until he had the proper equipment one of our rules to always try to keep the sample intact, for fear of destroying or damaging it. Strangely for one of our scholar he too sent to a piece of the carcass that as he said in a his letter was separated from the main body so it wasn't going to damage the specimen. He should have waited and follow the procedures but in the end it helped us greatly and it didn't damage the specimen. He too sent us some drawings of the carcass and the other small creatures to see how this small creatures were in their natural habitat. When we received them, we were surprised to find it had not originated from this planet, but another place as it was to strange to be of this world and the components that wasn't made of carbon but of….. I see that I bore you in the end it wasn't from this planet. After searching the old tomes and doing more research, the conclusion was that Carcass was an Old One, Kos and the things feasting on them were parasites, such an amazing discovery parasites of Old Ones."

"But the Old Ones are immortal. How did it die? And parasites of them?"

"Yes, we thought so as well, so we sent an expedition to uncover the secrets of these beings. Somehow, Laurence and the Church found out about it, and the Church claims it as their find. We've been forced to include their members on our expeditions and any scientific findings are going to be ''split'' as Laurence himself said or shared of a better term."

"How could you just accept this?" You've said thousands of times that Laurence and the Church are a band of children that don't have a clue what they are doing. The entire city knows the divergences of you two, by the good blood even the beasts know that"

"I maintain that place, but it was either this or full-on battle over the remains that could damage them and our fight would throw the city into chaos as we both control parts of the council."

"So by the fear of mutual destruction we agreed on something, this expedition needs bodyguards capable of fighting. After the letters with our scholar, we lost contact with our envoy, but in the last letter he claimed strange beasts began to emerge, probably because of the Old One's remains affecting local wildlife. And your hunters are the best there are, more capable and experienced than mine or the Church's. And it's best that you don't take sides, to avoid backstabbing as an intermediary for both of our…..''schools''."

Willem said the last part with difficult as he would never consider the Church creation of his ex student a real school. Amazing story but…..

"Very beautiful, but you came with a proposition and are only showing me the task, not the reward. Why should I risk my hunters for something unrelated to the hunt?"

"Tell me truly. You are having conflict with the Church's hunters, are you not? They are insisting that some places are from theirs exclusivity to hunt. Piece by piece they are taking huge portions of the city in their control claiming is for procteting propriety. They tried that with us about the forbidden forest, we allow them to patrol the forest and clean from beasts the hunters they sent never returned and will never return. So that is what I propose, you say you only care about the hunt, but still you need free rein over your operations, not to mention money for blood vials and quicksilver bullets. I can offer all that and more than your backers can. Byrgenwerth has some quite generous backers and much in the way of spare funds. Plus Laurence gave his word that the Church will no longer interfere with your duties and I believe in him, he could be a mad person and a children in terms of scientific thought but in the end he still has word…..."

Gehrman remained silent for a time. Yes, they were having troubles that could be resolved by accepting this request, but something about it felt wrong deep in his bones.

Willem stood. "I will give you some time to consider this. If you accept, send a letter to the Church. We need all of your hunters. The expedition is quite large and the area very big, the entire city and beach we would need to contain a lot of space."

* * *

The false was still carried him until they passed the gate that led to nothing but a fall into the…... he tried once to throw himself out of this nightmare but he always ended back on the wheelchair and the workshop. But looking at that gate made the memories surface again before that gate lead to a door, a set of stairs, leading into the cathedral ward. The stairs always made him remember the thrill that he felt looking at them and waiting for her to come back the laughter and talks where he could hear voice as she came back for another hunt night, just the excitement of knowing that she would come back. It was there that he spoke to her for the last time where everything start to fall apart.

* * *

"Mashi, did you take the fire papers?" a small man carrying a chest and wearing standard hunter attire asked.

"Yes, but not the bolt papers. That was Jemiji's job, and I don't know where he is."

"He already is in the carriages, now hurry."

"Maria, wait. I need to speak with you."

Maria was wearing more traditional hunter's garb, though her clothes had been made in Cainhurst so that was show as the clothes were of better quality and better materials than the others hunters in his workshop and her cap was topped with a feather a gift of her mother to commemorate one her birthday. She was his definition of perfect—ivory skin, white hair, eyes the perfect shade of green the clothes beautiful by themselves just empathize more of her beauty.

"What is it, Gehrman? Worried about me again? By Odeon, you are not my father."

"Maria, take care on this mission. There is something wrong about it, I can feel it."

"Yes, the fact that instead of helping the population by killing beasts, we are doing the job of bodyguards to stop Byrgenwerth and the Healing Church from killing themselves. Yes, this is exactly why I became a hunter, to play politician."

"If I had not accepted, we would have no future. The Church is slowly taking control of the city. Soon they would try to disband us I need to do something, Maria. This was our only chance to survive."

"I know, but I don't like it, Gehrman. I understand, but promise me that you will not allow politics to disturb our job."

"For you, I would promise anything. I can't guarantee that, but I promise that I will do all I can to stop this from happening again. But please, take care."

"Of course I will. I always take care. Goodbye, 'Master.' We will return so quickly you will not even notice that we were gone."

"I notice every moment without you." He never saw any of them again but he would always remember her and the last thing that he saw of her was she walking up the stairs while looking at him such beautiful eyes they were so full of life the color of nature and smiling the most beautiful teeth in the planet plus a smile so majestic and perfect making her looking even more beautiful, then after she leave everything gone downhill.

* * *

The false continued to push. They were starting up the small hill that led to the workshop. They passed a tombstone—not mutable, like the others, but the one where his world ended with just one conservation everything ended, his dreams, his workshop and her just some words and it was over.

* * *

He didn't like to hunt alone, but duty is duty a hunt must hunt. Finally, this hunt had ended, recentely all hunts appeared longer without her. He had needed the help of some of the common folk to kill a Cleric Beast, they only distracted the giant beast he did the dirty work he was drenched in the blood of the beast.

He descended the stairs to his workshop now clean his weapon and just wait for the next hunt and for any news of them it was lonely in the workshop with every one gone and without her. He finally reached the end of the stairs and there was something strange in the workshop there was light coming from the house, he prepared himself how could be? Scavengers or raiders? Beasts didn't emit light…... He approached the house carefully, but not before surreptitiously preparing the blunderbuss and burial blade in case of conflict it was still drenched in blood his weapon and would if need drench again. As he neared, he saw there were three of this invaders upon seeing them he relaxed it was easy to know who had come. Two dressed in a set, black and white to show conflict inside man according to the creator of the garb and to show respect for Master Willem, though they did not follow his teachings anymore as the man who had created this garb for the Choir. The same man who had created the clothes aesthetic was the creator of their entire organization the Healing Church of the Choir was only a part. The ones dressed this way were women, and the other wore a students' uniform. One of the most powerful man in Yharnam wearing just normal student clothes one that had his sticky hands everything in the city. His prints where everywhere the clothes of his followers, in the city council in the university of Yharnam, everything that he could touch and grab in his grasp he would. The most disgusting and powerful person in Yharnam with the power to destroy anyone in the city was here and Gehrman would show the respect that a man of his caliber deserve it "Hello, Laurence," Gehrman said. "What brings you to my workshop?"

"Gehrman. How have you been?" Why do I feel as if I've already had this conversation? Laurence spoke in such a similar way to Master Willem that he couldn't help but be surprised.

"Dismiss your guards. I could hurt you if I want but I am had not gone crazy by the blood yet.

"Of course. The idea never even crossed my mind. You know how people are these days, always holding on to their old ideas. Stay at the door. He will not harm me. I trust him to be a sane person and not a suicidal one." The choir members bowed quickly and left, obedient laps dogs as his hunter and her would ever done something like that.

"I come as the bearer of news about the fishing hamlet and the state of the expedition." Gehrman took a step towards Laurence, intrigued.

"Where are they? It has been four months without news and any kinda of letters. And my….Maria, where is she? Tell me Laurence if not….." Four months without her. Calm. Everything in its time his hunters were important too but her… she was his ray of light. Most of them were in the fishing hamlet and Maria supposedly was on the Astral Clock Tower tending the patients according to the last letter received from her. He took another step, fixing his gaze on Laurence and raised a bit his weapons to give a bit more emphasize. "Where are they now?"

"Let us start from the beginning. When they arrived, they began to study the fallen Old One, but the data was...lacking. We need to know how it affects the population, or if they could somehow be responsible for this. We studied them: where they ate, how they lives, their beliefs, if anything changed when they were dead or alive."

The most problematic thing of Laurence is that he hadn't any emotions on transmitting what had happen on the town. He wasn't mad or happy he was maintaining his normal tone of voice as he wasn't talking of killing people for scientific purpose but of the weather or about dogs.

"By Odeon, you are sick, Laurence. You take one hundred people and open them up to see how they work?"

"We are not monsters! For the first time Laurence raised his voice but maybe noticing this return to the same normal tone of voice

''We only treat the weakest like this. The rest we carried to the clock tower to test some theories. Your love made sure to follow up on them. So melodramatic, that one. After that small test on the population, she became ill, and threw—what was the name of the weapon? Of course, yes, Rakuyo, on a—well, how she even became a hunter with such a weak stomach is beyond me. She claimed what we were doing is wrong, but anything can be deemed necessary to advance humanity. And where would she get that idea? Maybe the master of the workshop that she affiliated with, the one that is completely obsessed with her."

"Stop. Where is she now?"

"I don't know."

"He grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pressed him against the wall. "Where is she?!''

He would give him the answer, then Gehrman would move everything in his way to find her not muttering the cost and the things in his way. Laurence would give the answer wanting or not, fuck the city council and the Church he would kill everyone for her.

The choir members ran inside, having heard the commotion, and immediately got into a fighting stance, weak stances full of openings that was the élite of the Church he would them easily. "Girls, My friend and I here were just talking. Everything is fine here." Gehrman didn't know what was worst the calm of Laurence or the mocking tone that he was using. They bowed and left, what good dogs that Laurence had and he continued with the same mocking tone. "Now, where were we? Of course! In the Astral Clock Tower. We assigned some high-profile individuals—do you remember Saint Adeline?—to the project, and in the beginning everything went swimmingly. The villagers had some simply wonderful reactions and we recorded so much data, even Adeline had good results. We were so close to our goal, though of course, there were some failures. And then suddenly—" he gestured widely as he said this "—everything was gone. The clock tower was empty and the fishing hamlet disappeared. The data remain intact, but that is all we have." She was gone, then? A life without her—was it even possible? Not that wasn't possible he would find a way he must be lying she couldn't be missing...she couldn't.

He released Laurence, his grip slacking in grief. "Calm, Gehrman, all is not lost. We may know where she is. It's a bit complicated, but let me explain. Your love and your hunters are in a nightmare. Not the type you have when you go to sleep. This nightmare was created by the Old Ones. It is a world strongly connected to a living thing. In this case, it was born from our violence and blood lust, when we razed—that's too strong a word—researched a bit closer to the village, and the cries of the population punish the

hunters responsible. The Old One responded by trapping all the hunters in a nightmare. And that's where she may be, though she killed herself before everyone vanished—"

"She killed herself? You're lying! She would never do something like that!" He advanced and landed a punch right on Laurence's stomach, the blunderbuss pressed to his head. "Give me a reason not to kill you," Gehrman prayed that he didn't gave him a reason so that he could shoot Laurence and them…..

"If you kill me, you'll never save her. Only the Healing Church has the capacity and the power to breach this nightmare. If you join us, all these resources will be available to you."

"After everything that was taken from me—my hunters, the woman I l…..—you come to offer me a job as a hunter?"

"Well, everything is an opportunity for you now. You don't have any more hunters, so it would be easy to substitute you, but I, in my infinite gratitude, offered you a chance. You have talents, and you're better than Ludwig—there's something strange about him and that sword, anyway—and by working with us, you will be able to access the nightmare. So what do you say?"

Gehrman looked around his workshop everything that he had built and achieve, the memories of this place and the hunters his ''apprentices'' and her, he would sacrifice all of this to try to save her and maybe them? The answer was simple. "Get out of my workshop or I will kill you all." He would find a way as he always find one, he would continue loyal to his workshop until the end.

Laurence got up and dusted off his robes, and left the workshop with an air of disappointment. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me. As a grateful man, I will make sure the Church does not bother you anymore. You have complete control in the hunt." He laughed as he left, and Gehrman couldn't do anything but stand there, looking at the door. After a while, he noticed his face was wet. He had been crying for her. For his hunters. For the talks he wouldn't have with her and the others to the end of the commemorations of the hard hunts and more much more…...unfortunate it wasn't the end… I was just the beginning of the end for Gehrman.

* * *

When the false arrived, the workshop was in flames, a signal that the hunt was at its end another symbolism to the hunter to make him fight him in the garden. As the fire died out and the workshop reconstructed itself, she delivered him inside, curtsied and left. He wheeled his chair over to the sides, equipped with weapons and shelves for hunter utilities. At the end of the house was an altar. It was first used to imprint Runes a gift from a strange being a rune smith as he called himself Caryll, but to him, it was a monument to his own stupidity and his failures again the memories take hold of him and once more he remembered his past.

In Byrgenwerth, everything was normal. It was raining, and all the students were talking about the data from the fishing hamlet—old data, surely, but still so rich. They spoke of it often, or another finding in the chalice dungeons. But today was different. Today, they heard a knock on one of the doors. How had someone come so far just to see them, and why? One of them opened the door as the others gripped their weapons behind their backs—to be a student at Byrgenwerth, one had to know how to fight, and to be prepared. Slowly, the door swung open.

Tired. That was the first word someone would use to describe the man in the doorway. He was dressed in a wrinkled brown overcoat, which showed signs of frequent use, red pants in an even worse state, and a scarf so dirty it left marks on his neck. His wrinkled face betrayed an air of drowsiness and fatigue, and a crumpled hat sat on top of his Grey hair. The clothes old and well used combined perfectly to the man appearance and looked like the two of them where the same being.

"I wish to speak to Master Willem. Tell him that Gehrman is here to see him." One of the students ran up the stairs to talk to his Master while the others watched this strange visitor. He was armed with a blunderbuss, and a curved sword that would have been enough to cut the tension hanging thick in the air.

"Master Willem will see you, Sir," the student said as he returned. Gehrman ascended the stairs as the students looked on, until he reached a large door at the end of the hallway. "He is behind this door. I'll leave you both alone." He inclined his head and retreated.

When Gehrman opened the door, he was surprised to find not a room, but a terrace that overlooked the lake of Yharnam. Sitting to the right, sheltered from the rain, was Master Willem, wearing the same clothes as the last time Gehrman had saw him. "It's a lovely view, isn't it?" Willem said as he approached. "The lake is beautiful when it rains, and when the moon is high it almost appears to be in the lake itself." His voice was low, and betrayed fatigue in every word, like speaking was a monumental task.

"What do you know about nightmares?"

"Still straight to the point, I see. Well, let's not beat around the bush. I assume you're referring to the fishing hamlet?"

"How do I access it?"

"Gehrman, even if you managed to access the nightmare, you would be unable to rescue anyone. Have you heard of the Mensis School? They're quite the experts in dreams, a bit more inconsequential than the church. We exchanged information with them, and leaned it is possible to take someone from the nightmares, but only if you have their body—if they are alive. If not, what is dead will stay dead, and all of the hunters…well, I'm sorry, Gehrman." He looked down at the stone floor of the terrace, shame on his face.

"I have heard that is possible for the Old Ones to return people from the dead. That some ritual exists, and no one knows rituals better than Byrgenwerth."

Master Willem remained silent for a moment. "Yes," he said hesitantly. "To do this, you must call a being we refer to as the Moon Presence. She is extremely powerful, and the ingredients for the ritual you speak of are extremely difficult to find. You would need the umbilical cord of an Old One. They're incredibly rare, and few posses one."

"If you have one, Willem, I implore you. You owe me. All my hunters are dead because of your proposition."

Willem sighed. "That point could be debated, but yes, I will provide you one. That's not all you'll need, however. You require an object that is important to the one you want returned, in a place important to them."

"Maria had a doll, from when she lived in Cainhurst Castle. It was made specifically for her, and she took great care of it." He looked out at the horizon for a moment, unwilling to make eye contact. "And the place would be my workshop. An important place for all of my hunters, and for her. With that, will the ritual be possible?"

"Yes, but communicating with this being is dangerous without great insight. Done improperly, it can lead to your death.''

"I don't care about death."

"So be it but remember, they always offer exactly what you ask. Rom, bring me the Umbilical Cord and the ritual of the Moon Presence." A woman with bushy hair and brown eyes, dressed in students' robes, entered the doors behind him. She carried a jar with something inside that resembled a snake, but with far more eyes than a snake should have. "This is Rom, one of my best students. She know all kinds of rituals and will dictate the process to you."

Gehrman nodded. "Goodbye, Willem."

* * *

Yes, Master Willem was right. It provided everything that he asked for. His workshop was brought back to its former glory for all eternity and resigned in a dream where he led. His ''hunters'' as they weren't his old companions but new ones that suddenly pop in the ''dream'' it was more of a nightmare to him. This new hunter could come and go as they pleased to the hunt zones, for what is the purpose of a hunter without the hunt? But there was a catch. The leader of the workshop could only quit when one of his hunters killed him in a duel so he was now eternally leader of this nightmare until someone kill him and that wasn't even worst. Maria had ''returned to life'', having been brought back in the form of her doll by the Moon Presence, but it had only restored her body, and not her soul. She was wrong. It was wrong. So wrong an animated doll that looked like her but it wasn't, just a piece of porcelain and the testimony of his mistakes. It had twisted his words to make him a servant from the beginning. He had thought at first that he could actually make a difference, but it wasn't long before he realized that he was just her puppet, serving only her own needs.

The hunter that he removed from the dream was to find and kill a strange creature. A child born of an Old One. His tormentor was determined to kill all of its own kind, and he did not understand why.

He tried everything, and this hunt was the apogee. If this hunter could not even kill him, after all of his preparing who could? Well, a voice in his head whispered, there was something that he could do. The key to the nightmare was the unborn child of Kos he had received this a long time ago and had forgotten but now, now he remembered it. He could use this to bargain, but it would convict all his hunters and her throw any chance of saving them. He wouldn't have done it if he had any hope left, but there was none. He just wanted freedom, time destroy everything even hope he would never meet her again neither save her. All of them were already lost he had to accept it and he would.

"False, come here."

She was leaning against a wall at the bottom of the main staircase to the workshop. To someone without the sight, it would appear to be just a doll wearing a brown dress, a deep red scarf wrapped its, neck a shawl covering its shoulders and a bonnet. The perfect dress material for a children doll and a mockery to her False rose and bowed to Gehrman as she addressed him.

"What you want, master?"

Just looking at her, thinking that she never would bow, she would never talk like that, filled him with so much hatred that he simply took the pistol he carried in his coat and shot in his head without even sparing a glance.

The ceramic face broke broken into thousands of pieces as she tumbled like a marionette with its strings cut.

As he looked at what he had done, he took a deep breath. Now he would have to wait a while for her to return. He heard the sound of approaching footsteps: the False had risen again. She curtsied to him and said "What do you want, master?" She was already accustomed to these sudden explosions from him. Another problem, she never accepted this from him and always reprimand him from his bursts to others, but this piece of porcelain just accepted.

"Take me to the garden."

She pushed the wheelchair down the hill and to the garden on the other side of the workshop, comprised of thousands of white roses and a giant tree planted on one side, surrounded by scattered crosses and tombstones it had already reconstructed. When he arrived, he sent the False away, for he wanted to speak with Her alone. He didn't need to speak with Moon Presence in the garden as it was everywhere in the dream or it need to make the false go away as the presence of it wouldn't change anything but he didn't want a reminder of her looking at him or anything that make him remember her around. The False withdrew, and Gehrman called:

"I come to you to make an exchange."

Nothing moved—not that she needed it too; she was everywhere in the dream. Finally, a light wind touched his tired face. A signal to communication the only way to communicate without becoming mad.

"I would like to relinquish my duties to grant me eternal rest Have I not served you for to long? The night is long and unending I had already take my share and I want a release. I propose you take someone from the waking world and train them. Someone fresh and new, raise anything to replace me. You will get a better servant that will make your wishes reality and offer me the release of this place.

A strong wind blew in his face.

"Of course I would something in exchange for this desire. What I offer to achieve my desire is a chance to kill the unborn child of Kos trapped in the Hunter's Nightmare. I have a way of accessing it."

The silence fell again, and the breeze slowed, now he had to offer some opportunities to make this offer more attractive for his jailer.

"I suggest someone who has a lineage of strong blood, able to endure the difficulties of the night. I can be too a survivor one that have fought to stay alive in the worst situation, the desire to live and persist is a requirement to a good hunter. A scholar the curiosity of the hunt and the dream could make him persist and continue the hunt until the end. Even wastes of skin are good hunters they have a desire to prove themselves to others to show that they are alive.

The action was repeated. Was she thinking of who would be best suited for the job? It could not be the son of some Yharnam hunter—it was impossible for hunters to bear children, since the blood transfusions rendered them barren.

Then he saw blood welling up from the beds of roses and forming a wall in front of him. Images appeared in the blood wall, probably the hunter that she would want to replace him in the end. Then he saw it: a blonde girl with her hair done in a twin tails wearing a light brown suit and an orange scarf round her neck. She was pushing a red cart of a very strange material in which a girl of perhaps four years slept. She was dressed in a red cape that was bigger then the girl, a white blouse that unlike the cape was of her size, and a black skirt like the blouse it fit the girl perfectly, with short black hair, the cape probably was from somewhere else maybe a parent?.

"It seems we have some careless parents, leaving two children to walk the woods alone. The youth these days. In my times, if parents wanted to get rid of undesirable children, they would sell them to the sips or the orphanage, not leave them in the woods, where there would be a chance they might return."

A strong wind blew in his face

"But they are too well fed and clothed to be abandoned as only the cape of the smaller girl appear to not belong to her. Still, the two of them seem ideal."

Now an even stronger wind.

"Only one why…, okay then. The blonde girl has potential, if my eyes do not deceive me, well feed perfect teeth and good posture but her age is an obstacle."

By this point, the wind was approaching the strength of a tornado.

"The girl with the red cape?"

A light wind blew.

"She has potential, but is still far too old as the sister is too well feed and I can't see analyze but if it's your choice accept...'' I only care that she free me you can choose a Church member and I wouldn't care''She will remember the family she had and will refused to be trained. How to force her to become a hunter? You can use violence, but the possibility of rebellion will always be present."

A pause, then a sickeningly sweet scent hit him head on.

"So you take care of that, but even so, she does not seem to have as much potential as the other. If you already have the capacity to train the younger one, why not the older?"

Before he had even finished speaking, the cart hit a rock and the girl in the red cape quickly opened his eyes, her slumber interrupted by the impact. She fell back asleep in moments, but she had been alert long enough for Gehrman to catch a glimpse of her eyes: silver. He laughed.

"Even a god believes in the legend of hunters with silver eyes. It's almost as if I'm not even speaking with a god, just an ignorant peasant."

There was only silence in the garden. The legend was that silver-eyed hunters had the ability to control the beasts with their stare, and when they succumbed to the blood addiction, they would become even stronger and more dangerous beasts. That was one of the reasons why children born with silver eyes were killed or abandoned to the Healing Church's Orphanage. A fate worse than death, if the stories about the place were true.

"These eyes may cause more problems but a quick blood transfusion can solve that. How would you make sure her relatives don't seek her out?"

The image on the wall of blood changed focus, showing the path in front of the girls. He saw a barn, and red eyes inside of it, in the center of the darkness. The creatures were similar to Yharnam's werewolves, but completely black and covered with white plating, dotted with red markings. They walked on two legs, and even through the blood wall he could tell how sharp their claws were.

"That's another world, is it?"

A light wind moved the roses. The concept that there were other worlds beyond this one was a theory of the Byrgenwerth School to explain the Old Ones and how they existed. The theory was that they belonged to extremely ancient worlds that had advanced so much in the evolutionary scale that they ascended to godhood and achieved the capacity to move between worlds. They weren't advanced beings, monsters, thought Gehrman; they were no evolutionary future, but only living nightmares.

"So allow me to collect the girl; her family will assume that these beings killed her."

The vision changed to show a crow flying into the barn. To anyone else it would be only a crow, but Gehrman had seen to much of this world by the beast and his own jailer that he has what Scholar of Yharnam called ''insight ''so he know only see the truth not illusions, and he knew it was a man and by the direction that was going his objective was to rescue the girls.

"Delay him. If you don't, he will arrive in time to stop me from extracting the girl."

The scent returned, and at his side blood flowed from the ground, building the image of a being with long white hair, pale skin, a wrinkled face, and no eyes: only empty cavities. A dirty old skirt covered its legs, a beige-and-black piece of fabric its torso, and a cape as red as blood emerged from a wound, always fluttering in a nonexistent breeze. The Pthumerian being bowed to him, one who had occupied Yharnam before humans reached the place. It was said they were so advanced that they attempted to create an Old One using their queen by making her pregnant with their child.

"So the puppet will distract, but use this to cancel out the crow's transformation."

It was a glass jar with a transparent dust inside. The dust had been used by the nobles of Cainhurst to hunt other hunters. It prevented them from regenerating, basically nullifying their human essence if the legends where true of course. Certainly it would work on this man, forcing him to fight with the Pthumerian. With his pale corpse-like hands he picked up the pot, knelt again, and began to fade as he left to perform his part.

"Now it's my turn."

He, too, began to disappear. Soon he would have a successor and this nightmare would finally end. It would take several years, but what were years to an eternity?

 **Review or do anything, the life is your but i would appreciate**

 **удачи**


	2. What's a hunter? Part 1

**Beta by Bellum Gerere**

 **Well writing the author notes again because it was not very well written i was posting the chapter before going to sleep and remember i am not from a country that speak english as first language. The story have a beta to stop any grammar or cohesion mistakes so don't worry. Well resuming what i had said the first episode was good... just wanting to see more character development and Cinder appear that she will have, hopefully.**

The carriage was going remarkably fast. The horses galloped at full speed and the coachman whipped, demanding more and more, faster and faster. He would not arrive in the city during the night, as the road itself was only a dirt path, largely unused. They came from the south of Yharnam, and there was their destination. The city of miracles where the blind could see, the lame could walk, the deaf would hear and the mute would speak. All diseases were cured, all maladies vanished. The city where everything was possible—the small could become tall, the weak strong, and the man could become a beast.

The passengers were the kind of people one would expect to be going to Yharnam. Many were coughing, a sign of tuberculosis, for which the only cure was in Yharnam. But among these sick and dying, there was a singularly rare individual. She looked perfectly healthy, though sometimes diseases and troubles could be hidden, destroying the person from within. She was young, at the most seventeen or eighteen years old. She wore a black hood and a white shirt under a red vest, and black trousers. Her hair was black as well, and cropped short, and she had silver eyes and an innocent face. She gazed out the window as the landscape passed, enthralled, as though she were seeing everything for the first time.

As all things do, the carriage was approaching the end of its journey. The sunset was closing in, and to be outside at night in Yharnam was a deadly thing, and the motive of the carriage's velocity. They entered the outskirts of the city as dusk began to fall, and many of the townsfolk were retreating to their homes, leaving the streets empty. Some prepared arms and torches, blocking streets, but luckily not the road that led to Iosefka's Clinic, which was famous for its blood transfusions. When the carriage arrived at its stopping-point, the passengers emptied, looks of hope on their faces at the thought of a cure mere steps away. The young girl did not descend until the rest had entered the clinic, thanking the coachman before she entered.

Just inside the clinic was a small set of stairs, with a man sitting at ta desk at the bottom—a worker, with a queue of people from the carriage waiting inside. The girl stood at the end of the line. Beside the desk was the door leading back to the clinic itself, though which she could see nurses preparing treatments. Those that passed the desk were shown through the door, and after some time the girl was at the front.

The man at the desk was fat, his skin folding heavily over itself, and dressed in the garb common of citizens of Yharnam. "Treatments are listed on this paper," he said in a bored-sounding voice as he handed her a piece of parchment where the treatments were listed and a picture on the side representing them probably to the illiterate thanks that her mother teach her how to read and write. "Tell me your problems, and quickly. The night approaches."

"I don't have money for any of these treatments," she replied, dismayed, as she read the paper over. "Please, isn't there some other way?"

"Leave. We don't do charity transfusions here."

"But please. I need a blood transfusion."

"Should've had the money, then. Next!"

She stepped out of the queue while the man spat on the ground. "Damn foreigners," he murmured. She sat on the street outside the clinic, wondering what she would do now. She really need the blood transfusion and there was no way that she could go back.

"Why are you upset, little girl?" She looked up to see a man in a wheelchair whose eyes were covered by bandages. He wore tattered clothes and a dirty old hat.

"First of all, I am not a little girl. _I_ drink milk. And what happened to your eyes?" It only took her a moment to realize her mistake. "Oh, I'm sorry I asked."

"It's no problem. I see things that are better left unseen, and then I didn't see anything. Why are you crestfallen?"

She hung her head, staring at the damp cobblestones. "I need a blood transfusion badly, but I don't have the money for a treatment."

"Well, I could solve that problem for you. You see, I am a blood minister, and I can give you a transfusion."

Her head snapped up, and hope shone in her eyes. "You can? Thank you, sir, thank you?"

"There will be a cost, of course. You see, a friend of mine needs someone for a job and I think you may qualify for it—even enjoy it. Come, let me prepare the transfusion while you read the contract."

"Sir, do you want some help?" she asked as he started to push himself along.

"I don't need it. It's just ahead of these stairs. There, you can push me."

They mounted the stairs to another place, very similar to the room downstairs, but much smaller, with only two tables for treatment. "Sit at the table in the middle. I will bring you the contract and prepare the transfusion." She pulled herself up on the table and began whistling to pass the time. Shortly, he came back with the contract, and as she started to read she saw that the contract was for her to become a hunter. It was only temporary, until this hunt ended, and she had no choice.

"Where do I sign?"

"Here." She scribbled down a signature. "Now lay back, and I will start the treatment.

"Do I need to take my clothes off? And will it hurt?"

"Good. All signed and sealed. Now, let's begin the transfusion. Oh, don't you worry. Whatever happens...you may think it all a mere bad dream."

"Wait, are you going to administer it? But you're blind, and—"

The last thing she could perceive was the laughter of the blood minister.

* * *

When she woke, she could move, or remember what happened. She looked to the side and saw a figure wearing a white cloak with their back turned to her. The sight gave her a sense of familiarity, but before she could place it, the figure started to turn around with a growl. When she looked back, a wolf had emerged from a pool of blood behind her. It immediately charged at the figure, and she tried to warn them, but she couldn't speak. He clawed at the ground and started to eat what had once been a living person, staining their white cloak red. She tried to close her eyes, but something made her watch until the end. She wanted to cry, but she couldn't. The beast moved away from the still body and approached her. She couldn't move, she couldn't get away—but as the beast neared, it burst into flames, then fell to the ground.

She heaved a sigh of relief, but when she looked back, the white cloak and the wolf had disappeared, and on her other side was a small creature, next to her right arm. Its body was so thin she could see its bones, and it was completely white. As it started to crawl towards he face, another one appeared with a different face, then another one. They continued their trek while she struggled vainly to move, and suddenly there was one next to her head. Her eyes slipped closed, and right before unconsciousness took her she thought she heard someone say "Oh, you found a hunter."

She woke breathlessly, jumping. _A nightmare_ , she thought, _it was only a nightmare_. She looked down at her body for any signs of the creatures, but found only a small bandage on her right arm that must have been the site of the transfusion. She got up off the table and noted with confusion that there was something glowing in the corner of the room.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" she called as she walked towards it. It was a message in some glowing substance that read _seek paleblood to transcend the hunt_. "Paleblood? What's that? And why do I need to transcend the hunt? I need to do this, for my treatment? Or to complete the hunt?" She walked away from it and towards the door, which was so heavy she needed two hands to open it.

Weak sunlight still shone on the ground when she walked down the stairs. Twilight, perhaps? All of the tables in the clinic were empty, but as she started to advance she could hear something that sounded almost like…eating? And it was getting louder. Soon she could see why: right next to the exit of the room was a wolf-beast, eating a corpse off the ground. She put a hand over her mouth so she wouldn't retch and ducked down behind a table to her left. This was not a dream. There was a…thing…near the exit and she didn't have any weapons. A distraction? There was nothing around for that. Best to try and move quietly around it.

She started to move silently, ducking table to table. The thing was to her left, with only one table between the two of them—when suddenly the thing put its snout in the air, sniffing in her general direction. She didn't even have time to think. She stood and ran, springing towards the door, and as she started to take the stairs to the exit two at a time she felt a crippling pain in her back. She fell, hitting her chin on the steps, and before she could even register the pain she felt it biting her feet, dragging her down. Once it had her on the floor, it slashed at her with a claw, gouging her sides. Then she could see the foul thing in all its glory, meat in its sharp bloody teeth and eyes so white that it appeared they were glowing. For a moment, everything stopped. Then it moved its claw to her chest, tearing her clothes and skin like they were paper.

That was when she screamed.

It didn't stop after that first tear, though. It just kept going, ripping more and more, breaking her ribs one at a time, and the pain was unfathomable. She felt it put its disgusting maw inside her open chest and _eat her_. She kept screaming until her vision started to fade, thinking that this was how death must feel.

She started to feel cold then. Why could she even feel anything? How was she not dead? She opened her eyes, and she was laying facedown on the rocky ground, the source of her chill. She stood up, thinking this must be where people go after death. That was certainly what it looked like, anyway, and if it was, she was very disappointed. She stood at the bottom of a small hill, with a house at the top, a door in front of her. The path up to the house was ringed by tombstones and flower beds, and when she looked behind her, she could see the horizon. Maybe she was only sleeping, and this was a dream? But when she looked at her chest, there were scars where the wolf-beast had torn into her. _I must have died, so why am I healed?_

The best thing to do would be to check the house, she thought, so she mounted the stairs towards it. As she climbed, she saw tiny creatures on the ground, giving off a brilliant light. The things she saw after the transfusion. She skittered away from them, and while they didn't try to follow her, the looked strangely crestfallen. The door to the house was open, and when she looked inside, she saw a small workshop table surrounded by quite a selection of weapons. Bookshelves lined the walls, and at the far end of the house was an altar. But the strangest thing was that in the middle of the room sat a man in a wheelchair, wearing a dingy old hat and even older clothes.

"Are you a god?" she asked him.

The man looked at her silently, fleeting surprise on his face before he schooled it into a neutral expression. "No, I am not a god. I am—"

"So, are you some kind of messenger? Did they send you to test me now that I'm dead to see if I'm worthy of—"

"Stop. I was not sent to test you and you are not dead."

"Oh. Okay. I'm sorry, sir."

"Call me Gehrman. I am the master of this workshop and you are its new hunter. This is the Hunter's Dream. You don't have to worry about anything. Just go out and kill the beasts. It's what we hunters do. You'll find you get used to it very quickly.

"Wait, did the contract I signed send me here? And I don't have any weapons, how will I kill beasts?"

"Yes, the contract sent you here. Every time you die in the waking world, you return here. The weapons are with the messengers, on the stairs."

"The creepy small white guys?"

"Precisely. Now, go out and kill some beasts. Everything in this workshop is at your disposal, including the doll, if it please you, and you can use the workshop to repair your weapons or attach blood gems to them."

"So can I use you?"

Silence fell. Gehrman's face became livid. "What did you say?"

"If I can use everything in this workshop, and you're in the workshop, I can use you, right?"

He was becoming a bit desperate. Had he found a pervert as his successor? Would she try to force herself on him? "Why would you want to use me?"

To help me in the hunt. If you are the master of the workshop, then you must know how to fight beasts, right?"

His relief at those words was tremendous. "Unfortunately, I can't exactly enter the waking world." He gestured towards the wheelchair. "Besides, I am old and I need some rest."

"Okay," she said. "I'll go now. Goodbye, Gehrman." She left the house and knelt down by the messengers on the stairs. The first group was offering up guns—a hunter's pistol or a blunderbuss. She chose the pistol and they dissolved into the ground. The next group offered three weapons: a hunter's axe, a saw cleaver, or a threaded cane. She thought for a moment, then selected the saw cleaver. It had a serrated edge, which would be good against beasts. She was about to leave when she realized that she didn't exactly know _how_ , so she embarrassedly trudged back up the stairs and hovered in the doorway to the workshop.

"I'm sorry, Gehrman, but how do I get back to the city?"

"Look at the tombstones. The names of places you can visit are etched on them. There will be lamps there that you need to light—they are your key to the dream."

"Okay. Thank you."

She went back down the stairs and looked at the tombstones carefully until she found one that read _Iosefka's Clinic_. When she looked at it, she started to fade—apparently that was how one travelled here. A few moments later she rematerialized in the room she had woken up in. When she descended the stairs, she could see the wolf-beast that had killed her—but this time she was ready for it. Instead of darting from table to table, hoping to evade it, she stood tall and walked straight down the middle of the room.

The thing noticed her quickly enough, and ran in her direction, hoping to catch her off guard with its speed. She sidestepped easily and slashed at it with the cleaver, then pressed the trigger to extend her weapon and delivered a more powerful attack at its head. The beast stumbled for a minute, then collapsed, dead. She felt something entering her, filling her with euphoria and power. The blood of the beast, she realized, and though she reveled in the sensation, she felt that something was missing. She looked back at its fallen body and realized there was still some blood in it—and out of that pool little white messengers appeared, holding syringes and jabbing at the leftover blood. When they were finished, they offered up the syringes to her, and she took them uneasily, not quite sure what to do with them. After a moment of thought she asked "if I inject this, will it cure me in the middle of battle?"

The messengers started to clap and do a little dance. "Okay, you guys aren't so bad." They danced more, clearly happy with her compliment.

She proceeded to the entrance of the clinic and opened the door. A new hunter had entered the hunt.

* * *

Finally, she thought, and after how much time? It had taken her so long just to open the door next to Gilbert's window. He was a very educated fellow compared to everyone else in this city, and had informed her that paleblood could be found in the Healing Church. According to him, they controlled all kinds of blood transfusions, and were located across the bridge in the Cathedral Ward. Going there seemed like her best bet, so she needed to use the house hat would transport her to the middle of the bridge and clear out the beasts around her to make her way there. This would take some time, so it would be best for her to start soon, since they wouldn't die if she didn't move.

It took her a while to kill everything, but soon enough she was walking to the entrance of the Cathedral Ward. In front of her was a large door into the ward itself, and then a smaller door that would take her directly there, according to Gilbert. She didn't like killing the beasts, though the feeling it gave her was intoxicating, since the feeling of blood on her wasn't entirely pleasant. When she died, she felt it being pulled out and onto the beast that killed her, and if she wanted to recover her strength she would need to kill it. What was the blood even used for? Would she absorb it and become stronger—was that why it was getting easier for her to kill the beasts? Well, not all of them. Killing the humanoid ones were more difficult, and she remembered her first time seeing one all too vividly.

She had just left the clinic, and was proceeding through the great door in front of her, which she'd needed two hands to open because it was so heavy. Once she was in the street, she wasn't quite sure where to go. A carriage blocked the rest of the alley to her left, so she proceeded down a flight of stairs to a dead end, where a body laid surrounded by coffins and benches. When she looked at the corpse closely, she saw the messengers again, siphoning out his blood and offering it to her. "Thanks again," she said as she took the syringes from them, and they danced. She retraced her steps leftward, where she saw a dead horse and another carriage. As she approached it, she heard a noise. There was a man ahead of her coming towards her, carrying an axe in his left hand and a torch in his right, dressed in deceivingly normal clothing. "Hello," she called. "I'm a new hunter; have you seen any beasts around? I saw one in the clinic, but I took care of it already. If you could just point me in the right direction?"

The man did not give any signs that he had listened to her at all, but he moved closer and swung at her with the axe. She ducked to the side. "I'm sorry if I said anything! I'm just trying to hunt beasts!" He attacked again, and this time she didn't have any room to dodge, so she shot at him instead to parry the attack. He stumbled, but began swinging his torch in the hopes of burning her. "Stop it! If you do that again, I'll have to hurt you!" He didn't listen, but kept swinging at her. She stepped back and delivered a hit with her saw cleaver to the arm which held the torch. The hit was stronger than she'd intended, but though he dropped the torch he didn't show any discomfort, simply attacking with the axe instead.

"Hey! What's wrong with you? I didn't do anything!" Before she could say anything else she felt a sharp pain in her chest, and when she looked down, there were three metal prongs sticking out of her shirt. "What?" she managed to croak out before she fell to the ground, her eyes closing. When she opened them again she was in the dream, and she signed deeply. Why had that man attacked her? Why were hunters so hated? She was just trying to help them, and she didn't want to hurt any innocents, only hunt beasts. When she entered the workshop, Gehrman was sitting in his chair.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but…are hunters hated in the city?"

He looked at her with disinterest in his expression. "Yes, we are, but why? It's the night of the hunt, and most of the citizens are in their homes."

"Some crazy people attacked me and I didn't know how to handle it…"

"Kill them."

"What? But they're not beasts! Hunters only kill beasts, right?"

He sighed. "We kill anything afflicted by the plague. The crazy people, as you call them, were inflicted. Look in their eyes. If they are not perfect circles, and are completely black, they are infected, and no better than beasts."

"But they don't look like beasts, just normal people. Is there a cure? Or some way to lock them up?"

"There is a cure. Kill them. They are only a step away from becoming wolf-beasts."

"I don't know if I'm capable of that. Even if someone has lost their mind, they're still a person, right? The beast I can kill, but…"

"If you don't want to do it, then stay here for eternity until another hunter appears. Choose now, and stop wasting my time."

"Yes sir," she said, and though she had made her decision, she left the house with a heart full of doubts.

* * *

It wasn't the last time she died, as she found it incredibly hard to just kill one beast. The more she died, though, the more she got used to it, and eventually she fell into a rhythm. Dodge, slash, shoot, find the next beast. The idea of this becoming routine was an uneasy thought to her, but was this not a hunter's job? She feared that she was losing something, some essential part of her.

However, all of her thoughts and doubts were interrupted when something huge jumped over the gate into the Cathedral Ward. It looked almost like a normal beast, but…massive, there was no other word for it. One of its arms was vastly larger than the other, and there were horns on its head, and a huge jaw filled with teeth. The thing looked strong-boned and muscled. A cleric beast, she thought as it started to creep towards her. If it's so big, it must be slow to turn, she thought. The best course of action would be to stay at the thing's back. Suddenly it jumped, throwing its strong arm at her, and she flew into one of the walls surrounding her. Despite the pain, she got up quickly and injected a blood vial while doing her best to dodge the attacks.

It jumped towards her, and she dodged to the left, immediately running for its flanks, slashing at them as fast and hard as she could. Just when she started to think she was doing some real damage, and it turned and swiped at her full on. She didn't allow herself time to stumble, but ran right back at him and slashed at him, absorbing a bit of his life as she did so. It was a trick all hunters learned, and especially her, since she'd died so many times. One of the thing's legs was broken after her flurry of swipes, and she continued to hit it there, exploiting its weak spot. When it swiped at her again, she dodged it easily, and continued hacking at the leg. It was already limping, best to make sure it could never walk on that leg again.

Somehow, the thing managed to heal his leg, and unleashed a flurry of attacks in her direction .She dodged the first two, and though the third caught her, she wasn't thrown away. She ran to his back and slashed, pressing the trigger to extend her weapon and deal more damage. The thing jumped in the air, and the fury of its landing caught her off guard. She rolled to the side and injected another blood vial, painfully aware that she only had a few left, and that she needed to end this quickly. The beast still had a lot of fight in it, though, but she resolved to carry on. She swiped at its right leg, sidestepping to avoid its attacks, but it kept charging at her, making it difficult to do a lot of damage at once. She swiped and slashed any chance she got, especially after one of its attacks to recover some of her health. It positioned itself in front of her and tried to close its hands around her, but she rolled to the left and slashed quickly—only once, she didn't have time for two—and followed its back as best she could for safety.

The thing was mad now, and her attacks simply weren't enough. She barely had time to dodge or inject one of her few blood vials. She needed a better way to hurt it, and then she remembered she'd picked up some Molotov cocktails and oil urns, and beasts like this hated fire. This gave her an idea. The next time she dodged, she threw one oil urn, and then another, drenching the beast. It cost her some speed, though, and the beast hit her, breaking her right arm. She only had one blood vial left, and it wouldn't be enough to heal this. She threw the cocktail and immediately the beast started to scream as the fire ravaged his body. She took out her pistol and shot at it, one, two, five times, and it stumbled. Not the best opportunity, but beggars can't be choosers. She lunged forward, shoved her left hand inside it, and pushed. The action always felt bizarre to her, but it worked. The beast screamed and dropped dead on the ground. She felt its power rush into her veins and exhaled harshly.

A lamp appeared, and she decided it would be best to recover before she continued to the Cathedral Ward. As she approached it, she saw the messengers trying to give her something. She picked it up, and saw a badge—the Sword Hunter badge, that would allow her new weapons if she could find a seller. "Thank you, this will really help me!" They started to clap and dance; it was clear they enjoyed being praised. She lit the lamp and returned to the dream. Now to repair my weapons, and then back to the Cathedral Ward. As she started to climb the stairs, she heard an unfamiliar voice.

"Welcome home, good hunter. What is it you desire?"

She jumped to the side, pulling out her gun and shooting at the origin of the voice. It hit what looked like a woman in the middle of the chest. She had been expecting a beast, not a pale woman with near-white hair, wearing brown shoes with a black skirt and a corset-like top. Her shoulders were covered with a brown cape and a red scarf, and her hat had flowers stitched on it. All of this, however, was insignificant compared to the hole in her chest, which she stared at vacantly, then looked back at the hunter again. "What is it you desire?"

The hunter was a bit startled, having just shot someone who was not a beast. And she was still moving, still speaking, and didn't even seem to notice the gaping hole. "I…I just shot you, and you're fine!" she gasped, moving closer to try and stop the bleeding.

"Yes, good hunter. Why would I not be?"

When she took a closer look at the wound, she noticed it wasn't bleeding at all—but how was this possible? "Because I shot you in the chest! Why aren't you bleeding?"

"I am only a doll, and do not bleed."

"What? Of course you're not a doll! You're a person!"

The woman showed the hunter her hands, and she saw the obvious joints. "You…are a doll. A living doll." Now I've seen everything, she thought to herself.

"Yes, I am, good hunter. What is it you desire?"

"I just shot you! I'm so sorry! You scared me, I thought you were a beast, I—it'll never happen again, I promise!"

"Do not fret, good hunter. I am only a doll, and you may treat me as you wish."

The hunter grimaced. "Of course not. You can't treat people like garbage, and even though you're not a person, you're still alive, so you must feel pain. I'll never shoot or attack you again."

The doll only stood, expressionless. "Thank you for your kindness, good hunter. What is is you desire?"

"I don't know, what can you offer me? I know! New guns—no, new weapons!"

The doll continued to look at her, her face unchanged. "Honorable hunter, pursue the echoes of blood, and I will channel them into your strength. You will hunt beasts, and I will be here for you, to embolden your sickly spirit."

"Why is my spirit sickly? And what does embolden mean?" The hunter began to search her clothes for something to use as a mirror. The doll looked more agitated now.

"Good hunter, stand still, and give me your arm so I can grant you my strength."

"Ah. All right." The hunter held out her right arm, and the doll took it and knelt. Immediately, she felt the blood she had taken being pulled out of her, and power given back in its place. It lasted only a few seconds, then stopped, and the doll stood.

"Is there anything more that you desire, good hunter?"

The hunter backed away, still a bit shocked. "No, everything's fine. Okey dokey, I'm going back to the hunt now. Thanks!" They walked towards the tombstones, searching for a name. Cathedral Ward, that sounds right. She focused intently on the name and within a moment she had begun to fade, leaving only the doll in the dream.

"What a curious hunter."

 **Now do whatever you want but let a review so i can know if i am actually in the right way**

 **у** **дачи**


	3. What's a hunter? Part 2

**Beta by Bellum Gerere**

 **I actually get very arrogant by the end of the day, maybe is because i am very tired and i notice that i forgot to put some separation in all of my chapters amazing.**

This was a joke. It had to be. After dying multiple times and facing a giant beast, this was what she got? The way to the cathedral ward wasn't just a chance at new weapons, she couldn't say anything about that, but all this expectation for a closed door? Thanks to the hunt she could teleport to the dream from lamps, which was much easier than walking, not to mention less beasts.

Gilbert was again helpful here, pointing her through the aqueducts, though he'd called the area "a bit colorful" and she wasn't quite sure what he meant by that. It didn't matter now, though. She as below the great bridge and heading through the aqueduct. It stank of rotten blood and garbage, and the dirty water at her feet and the walls around her were covered in things best not thought about. It was more like a sewer filled with beasts, some of which looked disturbingly more like men. She didn't like killing the ones that resembled humans, despite the fact that their bodies were covered in fur and some of them barely even looked human anymore. There were rats too, a lot of them, and sometimes they would attack her in groups of three or four and kill her. It took her quite a while to fight her way through to the end of the sewer—only to be met with a free fall into yet another level of aqueduct.

Suddenly she heard a noise, and dodged instinctively as a makeshift lance swung through the air where she had once been. It was a beast, walking on two legs covered in ragged trousers, with matted red fur all over its body. It thrust with the lance again and she moved to the side. As it prepared for another thrust, she readied her gun and shot. The beast stumbled and fell to its knees, and she plunged her weapon into its guts, pushing it to the ground as its blood spurted out around her. Disgusting, but effective. Some messengers came and removed its blood, giving it to her. When she looked back at where its body was, she saw a body, dressed in odd clothes, and decided to give it a closer look. As she inspected it she saw it was a set of traditional hunter garb. It looked like it might fit her, maybe she could use it? Getting naked in the middle of the hunt, even if it would end with her in more effective gear, didn't seem like the best idea, though. "Messengers?" she said, and they emerged from the ground beside the body, swaying gently. "Could you deliver these clothes to the dream?" It almost looked like they were nodding, the way they surrounded the body and then dissolved. "Thank you."

She looked back at the free fall. There were some planks sticking out of the walls, and she thought it might be possible to descend there safely. Hopefully there would only be bodies, and not beasts….

That hope was crushed almost immediately when, as she was jumping down plank by plank, the things she thought were bodies began to reanimate themselves and attack her. They must have been some kind of zombies, only zombies come back to life. She destroyed their heads so they wouldn't reanimate again and chose a ladder to climb, one that would hopefully take her out of the sewers. She knew she had to stay in the aqueduct if she wanted to get to the ward, but she was curious to see what this ladder led to. Maybe a new weapon? And killing more beasts would only make her stronger, and fulfill the duty of the hunt.

One dead giant later, she was ascending another ladder, hoping that there would be something worth it at the end of this trek. Maybe blueprints for a new weapon, since the workshop held evidence many such things existed. She'd seen some of them before, and they were beautiful. Simple but brutal, they used ancient mechanics but still carried a sense of rustic charm, and the potential to do extreme damage. Getting her hands on one of them would be a dream come true—but at the top of the ladder, there was only a metal door. She pulled a lever to its right and stepped through it as it creaked open. She was hugely disappointed to find that the door only led back to the Great Bridge. A shortcut. Helpful, but not what she'd been hoping to find.

Next to the door was a window with bars around it. A lamp was lit, indicating someone was inside. A person, not a beast. All of the people she'd talked to up to this point had been…disrespectful, to put it nicely. She didn't want to be cruel, as her parents had told her it was always bad to do such, but the people of Yharnam were terrible. As a hunter, it was her duty to be sure they were safe. According to Gerhman, this was just a way to make checking for the dead easier. If no one answered, burn down the house. It was simpler and quicker than exploring every last corner of the city.

A voice rang from the window and she jumped, unaware of how long she'd been standing there lost in thought. "Are you a hunter? I know that smell. Father always smells like that when he returns…."

"Yes," she answered warily, "I'm a hunter. Is everything alright? Where are your parents?"

"Father is gone hunting, and mommy has gone to look for him. Can you please find my mommy? I'm alone, and scared."

Her expression became determined. Finally, a real opportunity to help the people! She could find the mother of this child, but first, she needed to have some idea where her parents were. The father was the hunter, right? Not the mother? Her mind was starting to blur, the hunt stirring in her head. Going back to the Dream and removing some of the echoes she carried would probably help; they seemed to be doing strange things to her thoughts.

"I'll find your mother. Is there something I can use to identify her? Do you want me to look for your father as well?"

"Father is a hunter. Mommy said that disturbing him during a hunt is very dangerous, and we should wait for his return. But tonight he looked strange…he kept checking his weapons and he wouldn't even play with me, even though he promised he would. I got a new doll from grandpa today and I wanted to play with her and he promised…and mommy even went after him…" She could hear the sounds of a trunk being rummaged through from behind the window. "Mommy forgot her music box. It plays daddy's favorite song. When he returns and he's forgotten us, we play it and he remembers. Silly mommy. If you find this, will you give it to her? My mommy wears a red brooch. It's very large and very beautiful."

"I'll look for them. What's her name? It will be easier to find her if I know. And did you see where she went?"

"Her name is Viola. She went through the place with a lot of dogs. By where the carriage stops. Goodbye, hunter. Please find my mommy." A place with a lot of dogs? She'd have to ask Gilbert again, she was sure she would know. In the meantime, she would need to visit the doll.

* * *

According to Gilbert, the place the girl spoke of was behind some crates she has passed on the way to the great bridge, near the plaza. It was an odd description, and though he'd given her an easier way to get there, she hadn't listened. It had been complicated, and she didn't understand most of it. He wasn't the best at giving directions. When she found the crates, she decided to roll through them and see if there was anything behind them. They were so rotten that they collapsed easily, though she took some cuts. Behind them was a drop, and when she landed, a flurry of dogs began to bark. There were several cages, all of them full, and she shot the ones that were trapped inside. She didn't like killing them, and tried to make it as painless as possible, and each time it made her feel a bit less guilty. They were all the same, matted beige fur with tongues lolling out and sharp teeth. She could see a small bridge, where a dog was barking at a door. As she approached quietly, hoping to get a hit on it before it noticed she was there, she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder. Something was biting her. She turned around to see one of the dogs, missing an eye, had somehow managed to release itself from its cage. She shot him and sent him reeling back with a yowl, but the other dog had noticed her now. She flipped around, pressing the release on her saw cleaver, and was rewarded with the sensation of the dog's body resisting as she slashed him. She released her weapon and turned back to the one-eyed dog, which had recovered and was preparing for another shot. She shot her pistol and it jumped to the side, throwing all its weight at her. It knocked her to the ground, and as she thrashed around, looking desperately for her pistol, it snapped at her from all sides, trying to hit her.

There was a way. It would hurt, she knew, but she didn't have much of a choice. She thrust her left arm into the dog's mouth. As it bit around her, she tried to hold off the pain and search more frantically for the gun. The pain was increasing and she kept telling herself to ignore it, ignore it. Finally, her right hand closed around the gun and she pushed it against the dog's head and shot. A spray of blood later, it was dead. She stood and injected a blood vial into the punctures its teeth had made to start the healing process. She knew she would never do that again, even though Gerhman had told her it was better to sacrifice a part to save the whole.

She approached the door that the dog had been barking at. It looked to be nothing special.

"You are a hunter, are you not, little girl?" She sighed internally. Another person seeking her help with killing beasts. "Do you know any safe places for an elderly woman like me?"

"No, I don't. But if I find any, I will tell you."

"Of course you don't. What do you expect from a hunter? Not even the guts to help an old woman."

"I said I would—"

The woman didn't allow her to continue. "Go. Don't speak. You don't think about us when you're out hunting. Only the beasts."

"Excuse me! I said I would look for a place for you and I will. Don't assume that hunters don't care about the people. We hunt beasts to help you. Give me some time and I will find a place and escort you there."

"If your kind actually cared about us, what happened in Old Yharnam wouldn't have happened. I remember it. Don't trick me. You're all just the same, high on the 'thrill' of the hunt, and…."

She moved through the doorway as the woman began to ramble about hunters. She didn't need to listen to it. Through the door was another set of stairs that led to a small room and the continuation of the stairwell, going ever downward. There were a lot of crates, and as she looked through the dust and debris, she noticed a hidden opening. In one of the crates was a small passageway that she dropped down, landing in a large warehouse with three floors. She would have been on the last one. The rancid smell of the sewers assaulted her, and she realized she was just in another part of them. A catwalk ran above the warehouse floor, and a few cut through the middle, giving her access to bodies suspended on the catwalks. To her right was another opening that she determined to explore first, before she examined the bodies.

It turned out to be a dead end, but there was someone standing in the corner. A figure wearing a strange outfit—a cape whose fabric feathered outward, a pointed hat, and a mask that resembled a crow. She approached warily, wondering if it was another beast who would attack her as soon as it was aware of her presence. "Hello?"

"Oh. Another hunter. A new one, young and an outsider as well. The younger they are, the more inexperienced the hunt becomes. What bad luck to be recruited this night."

How did everyone know she was an outsider? She was wearing the garb of a Yharnam hunter, which somehow fit her perfectly, despite the fact that the body was male—another question that would most likely go unanswered.

"What makes this night special? And how do you know I'm an outsider? And I'll have you know I'm a very experienced hunter. I was trained by my father."

"There are no more humans. Just flesh hungry beasts in the streets, and they seem to be quite…problematic tonight. Take this, young one, to aid you in this hunt." The woman handed her a piece of paper with the symbol of the hunt inked on it. "As to how I know you're an outsider, you spoke to the woman in that house there. Was your father a Yharnam hunter?"

"No. He hunted in the woods, and before I came here he taught me how to hunt and shoot. Don't call me inexperienced and young. I drink milk. How does talking to her tell you I'm not a Yharnamite?"

"The hunters here are different from those in the woods. You will see, young hunter. Only outsiders try to help the people. The Yharnamites don't care about them." Strange. Wasn't helping the people one of her duties as a hunter? As she thought this, she remembered the young girl whose mother she was supposed to be finding. Well, there was no harm in asking her…

"Have you seen a woman pass near here, wearing a red brooch?"

"A strange question. But yes, she was heading towards the aqueduct. Tread carefully around there, young hunter. There is another there, and I feel this one will belong to me very soon."

"What do you mean? Are you going to buy him? Is slavery allowed here?"

She sighed and reached inside her cape, removing a sword that looked like two small knives attached at the hilt. "Of course not, though his actions may force me to bathe in his blood."

The young one was completely focused on the weapon as she moved closer. "Can I see it?"

The crow woman squinted at her. "You want me to hand my primary way of defending myself over to you, a stranger?"

She retreated a little, hanging her head. "Sorry. I just like weapons, and yours is a true hunter's blade. They are so well constructed and—that's the Blade of Mercy, right? I would recognize Siderite weapons anywhere. How did you find it?"

"You asks too many questions, and I will not answer them. Some secrets are best left alone, as they say. Now go, new hunter. The beasts await. And, as another gift, one of the bodies hanging in the warehouse stores a hunter's weapon."

A new weapon! But what could it possibly be? And was the girl's mother safe? She was after her husband, who was a hunter, but why would he be dangerous? Did the hunters not only hunt beasts? "This hunter, near the aqueducts. Is he dangerous?"

"Ah, a hunter with some fear. This is good. It's one of the things that differentiates us from beasts. Yes, this hunter has lost himself to the hunt. His name is Gascoigne but they call him Father Gascoigne. Don't approach him. That would be best left to me. Now go. The moon is high in the sky, and we have jobs to do."

The young hunter left her standing in the corner. First she would take this new weapon, and then on to the Cathedral Ward to find Viola.

Finding the weapon was not hard. It was a variation of the saw cleaver, the Saw Spear. Nothing new, but a new weapon was a new weapon, and she knew that if she put some work into fortifying it she could make it quite strong. Now, unfortunately, it was time to enter the sewers. But she was prepared this time. She knew her way around, and that anything that looked like a corpse on the ground needed a quick bullet to the head. She could deal with the damned crows.

She'd arrived at the end of a tunnel, too dark to see down, with a ladder at its right. It would've been a difficult choice if she hadn't already been climbing the ladder. She was not going to go into a dark tunnel—not because she was afraid of course a hunter wouldn't be afraid of a dark tunnel, but because the ladder was the quickest option, and she wanted to escape the smell of the sewers.

At the top of the ladder was a welcoming party—five of Yharnam's crazed residents, waiting for her to emerge from the aqueducts so they could attack her. She dodged backwards, forgetting that behind her was a free fall. She could only watch the ladder pass by her with increasing speed before she hit the ground with a smack, and was back in the dream. When she reached the top of the ladder again, she immediately rolled to the side so she could gain some distance. Now she only had to climb the stairs and she would be in the Cathedral Ward.

She died a few more times before she saw someone roll a ball of fire, killing the people who were attacking her and making her journey a lot easier. She could see where she was now, and activating an elevator created a shortcut back to the lamp in Central Yharnam. It made it a great deal quicker to reach the entrance to the ward.

It was a cemetery, with smaller graves radiating out from a larger monolith in the middle and…was that a hunter? He was dressed in the appropriate garb, though his looked a bit more civilian than hers, and he was hacking at a corpse with a hunter's axe. As she entered, he stopped and turned to look at her.

"…beasts all over the shop….you'll be one of them, or later…."

And without any warning or hesitation, he advanced, brandishing the axe in one hand a blunderbuss in the other hand. This must be the hunter the crow woman had spoken of, Father Gascoigne. He slashed at her, his blade arcing upward, and she dodged to the side and returned the blow, spilling his blood. He dodged back and shot at her, and the force of the bullet caused her to stagger. When she looked back at him, his eyes had turned completely black. He'd become afflicted with the beast plague, and now she had no choice. If it's afflicted, kill it.

He advanced again, his axe scraping the ground and sending up sparks. When he was close enough, she quickstepped to the right as the blade arced up. She proceeded to deliver a combination of slashed at him, and he shot without stepping back. The first time, she was able to handle it, but the second one sent her to the ground, and he lunged at her, his axe descending quickly. She rolled to the side and lashed out at him, closing some of her wounds. He stepped backward and shot at her again, and she stepped back and injected a blood vial.

He jumped closer and tried to attack her, but she backstepped and waited for his long attack to end, then attacked him. One, two slashes, and then she pressed the trigger, releasing her blade and painting the tombstones with his blood. He dragged his weapon towards her in an ascending arc, and she shot at him to parry, but failed at following with a riposte and was thrown on the ground after not dodging a shot from his blunderbuss. She injected one blood vial, then another, dodging as she did so, to fully heal herself. As she closed her blade, preparing for another combination, he attacked again. This time he tried another ascending sweep with the axe. She waited—and then shot. He immediately fell to his knees, staggering, and she stepped closer. She shoved her hand in the hole in his chest, grabbed something, and twisted. He fell down, dead. Good, he was eliminated, and no longer a threat to her, but she felt bad having to kill another hunter. And where was Viola?

And the blood that flowed into her when she killed a beast…she didn't feel it. She looked behind her and the thing she thought was a corpse was standing up, the hole in his chest closing over. As he looked at her, then the rapidly extending axe, and back again, he pointed his nose, sniffing. A devilish grin appeared on his face. "What's that smell? The sweet blood, it sings to me. It's enough to make a man sick…."

He advanced on her again, and now, with his axe extended he had greater reach. Maybe he wouldn't be able to use his blunderbuss? He swung horizontally at her and she dodged, but was hit by it nonetheless. The sides were deadly now, she knew, and only dodging backwards would let her evade him. She injected another blood vial as he moved, and as another swing passed by her she returned with a slash at him. He stumbled. One, two, and press the trigger to release it. More of his blood spilled, and he quickly shot and followed it with a swing of his axe. She jumped back, moving behind him and injecting another blood vial now. She could smell it now, sweet on the air, almost sickeningly so…no, concentrate on the fight.

He pressed his advantage, advancing on her until he stopped and put his weapon on his back, preparing for…something, she didn't know what. She jumped toward him to attempt a visceral attack. One, two, release—but he didn't stumble. Instead, he released his weapon, hitting her straight on with his rotating axe. As she fell to the ground, another hit caught her right in her stomach. She aimed, ignoring the pain, and shot until she hit him, then rolled back and injected a blood vial. It took one more vial to fully close her wound, and she managed to shoot him again as he advanced on her. A lucky parry. He fell to his knees and she shoved her hand in his stomach, grabbing and pushing. He slumped for a moment, but immediately stood up returned to the fight.

Why didn't he stay down? He'd taken two visceral attacks only to get back up and continue fighting. How strong a hunter was he? He jumped and charged again, and she waited for the right moment to shoot and then immediately retracted the blade of her saw cleaver. When he moved closer, she fell back, dodging a horizontal swing. One, two, release. This time he didn't stumble. He put his hands to the sides of his head and began to scream. She retracted her blade and continued slashing at him—and then he exploded. She was thrown to the ground from the force of it, and when she looked back up, there wasn't a human anymore. He had become a gigantic biped beast, his clothes shredded, covered in fur and claws—sharp ones. The thing jumped at her with its arm extended, and she rolled to the side. It continued in this pattern, jumping closer and closer, attacking with its claws. She didn't have an opening to retaliate, and the gun didn't do any damage. She'd have to resort to a weapon she knew beasts hated—fire.

She had two Molotov cocktails, and that would have to be enough. When it jumped, she dodged it as well as the attack afterwards, and threw the cocktail—a direct hit. It started to scream as the fire ravished its fur. She jumped closer and slashed. One, two, release, retreat, one, two, release, retreat. It swung its left arm and though she tried to move backwards, its claws shredded her clothes like there was nothing there. She bit her tongue to stop a noise from escaping her, and tried to focus. The attack wasn't over, and she was forced to step back again to evade another swing. He continued with a hook with his left arm, and she dodged and injected a vial. Her shirt was almost completely shredded, and instead of being ashamed or embarrassed, she only became more determined to slay the beast.

But no matter how hard she hit, the thing wouldn't seem to die, and it was angering her to no end. She had torn out the thing's chest, hit it more times than she could count, and the sweet smell was starting to creep through her head. She threw the other cocktail and missed, and had to dodge another attack. How could she create more space? Then she remembered the music box in her pocket. If this hunter was the father the girl spoke of, it might work to stun him. But if that was the case, this Father Gascoigne would be her father. It was a slim chance, but if she didn't try, it might kill her. It was better than the way she was carrying on, at least.

He attempted a charge attack, but she dodged it and the following quick attack. She opened the music box after cranking it and placed it on the ground. As it swung open, she jumped back when he swung his claws. A warbling tune started to come out of it, and the beast stopped in its tracks. For a moment it simply looked dazed, then it lowered its head to the ground and howled. Somewhere deep within the noise, she swore she could make out words: "What have I done? Oh, gods, what have I done?"

Not wanting to waste any time, she charged on his back, releasing the strongest attack she could muster. Father Gascoigne stumbled and she performed a visceral attack, grabbing something deep within him and releasing it. He fell to the ground and tried to get back up, but she wouldn't allow it. The smell was stronger now. How had she not noticed? Maybe if he died, it would get stronger...yes. He only needed to die for her to experience more of this heavenly scent...

She jumped closer to its body, pressing the release on her saw cleaver and swinging at its back again and again, until it stopped moving. His body was beginning to disappear, but she didn't stop. Again, again, until her arms grew tired. Again, again, again, until her vision stained red...and then nothing.

* * *

The forest was cold and silent, and rain fell gently, dripping from the leaves. One could make out two figures, wearing green capes and the dress of a forest hunter: brown vest, green trousers and shirts, heads hidden by their hoods and scarves wrapped around their faces to protect them from the cold. One was quite a bit taller than the other, and both carried rifles. They were moving slowly, examining the ground around them, and the taller one halted the shorter with his hand in front of them.

"Tracks," he said as he pointed at a set of animal footprints on the soft ground. "A deer, female, passed by here a short time ago."

"How do you know that, Papa?" the shorter asked in a low voice.

"Child, the tracks would have disappeared in this rain if they were made a long time ago. If you can still see them, it means only a short amount of time has passed. See the shape of the marks? That's how you can tell it's a deer. I know it's a female because there are no broken branches. A male deer has large horns, so it would break branches if it walked by here. Are you listening?"

"Yes, Papa."

"You wanted to come hunting with me, so you've got to pay attention. Let's go, it won't be far."

The father walked in front while the child followed his trail, and after a few minutes he raised his hand and motioned for the child to stop. They continued slower, crouching now, until he started crawling, then stopped completely. He pointed, and the child followed his gaze to see a deer, drinking water from a small pond. The father pointed at his child, then put the rifle in their hands, readying them to shoot.

"Take aim using the aim at the top of the barrel. Her head or her shoulder, your choice." The child moved so the barrel was fixed on the deer's shoulder. "There's no wind today, so you won't have to compensate for that. Just hold your breath and shoot."

There was a bang, the flight of birds, and then—silence. The deer had fallen to the ground.

"Good shot," the father said. "Come." When they moved closer to the deer, they saw it was still alive. "Your obsession with that gun served you well. I thought you would miss, but the modifications you made helped. Remember, though, if you shoot in the shoulder, it'll destroy the spine so they can't move, but they might still live."

The child wasn't listening—they were too focused on the obvious look of suffering on the deer's face. When a hand pushed them, they said "What is it, Papa?"

"The deer. Finish it."

The horror on the child's face was evident. "How? I can't do that, Papa!"

He sighed. "You took the shot. You insisted we go hunting. Now finish what you started." He handed a knife to the child.

"But why can't you do it?" they protested.

"When your mother and I get old, we'll need someone to care for us. If you can't kill your prey, how will you feed us?"

"But Papa…" the child said weakly.

"There will come a time when indecision will mean your death." The child gulped and took the knife. "Kneel, put it here, and press." The child couldn't look when the blood started to flow, staining their hands.

"So much blood…why is there so much blood, Papa? Why?"

She blinked, staring down at her blood-covered hands. What happened? She was fighting Father Gascoigne, she'd managed to stun him and then….

She looked down at the body. It was almost unrecognizable, only a pile of blood and meat. The only thing that was familiar was the blade of her saw cleaver, right in the middle of this mess. Had she done it? Why had she been thinking of her first kill? It must have been the smell. That sweet smell, the one that made her crave more and more of it. This had to be what the crow woman had warned her about. She said he had lost himself to the hunt. Was this the reason hunters fell? She couldn't let it consume her again. She needed to fight against this addiction. Next time she wouldn't just remember a kill, she would lose herself. She tried to piece together what remained of her shredded clothing and put her pistol back in its holster. A lamp had appeared in the graveyard, and she lit it and reentered the dream.

 **The next chapter will be released in 20/11/2016 or 11/20/2016**

 **у** **дачи**


	4. What's a hunter? Part 3

**So here is the new chapter. I have nothing to say, really nothing so go to the story.**

There she was, back in the dream. Her wounds always healed when she was there, but her weapons and her clothes were still in various states of disrepair. Her bare skin was visible through the holes in her shirt, which had become more or less a tattered piece of fabric hanging from around her neck. At least the dream wasn't cold, or windy, but she was still left with the problem of how to repair her clothes. The saw cleaver would only need some time in the workshop, inside the confusing house. A hunter's workshop that came with these names and….

"Welcome home, good hunter. What is it you desire?" She turned around with a start, swinging the saw cleaver even though it was destroyed to the point of being just a handle. It passed very close to the face of the doll, who simply stood with the same blank expression she always wore. The hunter sighed in relief when she realized she hadn't hit her, and that she wasn't a beast.

"You scared me! I almost hit you! Don't creep around me anymore, I might hurt you!"

"Do not worry about me, good hunter. If you hurt me I will simply be remade by the dream."

The hunter's face pulled into an expression of disbelief. "I already said I won't hurt you, now or ever. Could you help me with these blood echoes? Please? I have so many, if it isn't a bother to you—"

"Good hunter, I exist to serve you. I am always available for anything you want. Now kneel, good hunter, so I can channel your echoes." The hunter knelt and placed her hands into the doll's. After a moment she felt the blood being pulled from her, replaced with something else. Something that felt like power. A few minutes later she finished, and the hunter stood.

"Thank you. That feels much better. I'm stronger without the blood, you know. Maybe too much blood can do bad things...I can finally use heavy weapons now, and I can shoot better, and maybe this will stop me from getting too agitated and….'' The hunter stooped and stared into the distance for a moment, thinking about the fight. What if it happened again?

"Good hunter, are you feeling all right?" The hunter sighed, her face uncertain.

"No, I'm not. I had to fight a hunter, a fallen hunter, and I started to lose control of what I was doing…by the end, I completely lost it and started butchering the corpse. I'm scared if this happens again I will become a beast somehow. I had a flashback of my first hunt…I think it might have stopped me from losing myself completely. But I can't count on that happening again, and I'm scared."

"Good hunter, what do you feel now?''

''I don't know. I think I'm scared, and don't want to return to the hunt. But at the same time, I know I must. It is my duty. I signed a contract…." She didn't want to admit out loud that some part of her rejoiced in the feeling of the blood, the thrill of the hunt, but the doll seemed to know anyway.

"Good hunter, you should speak to Gehrman about this. He is master of the workshop, and will be able to better counsel you than I. I am only a doll, and he is a hunter with limitless experience."

"Don't say that! You're perfectly capable of counseling me! Thank you, though, I think I will go to him. But where is he?"

"Inside the workshop, good hunter.''

"Thank you!" the hunter called behind her as she climbed the stairs to the workshop. Gehrman was sitting there, in the same place as before, and he looked surprised to see her in her current state when she entered. Soon enough, though, his countenance returned to one of disinterest. "Gehrman. I have…I don't know how to start. Well, you see, I was…."

He listened silently to her retelling of what had just happened before he spoke. "Yes, I understand your problem. This is very common among young and inexperienced hunters such as yourself." The hunter pouted, but allowed him to continue. "But of course, as the master of the workshop, it is my duty to help you. First, you have to understand the nature of hunters and beasts."

The hunter looked confused. "I'm sorry, but I only wanted to know about my los—"

"Silence. Youth this day want everything on a silver plate. Now answer me. What is a beast?"

"But what does this have to do with—?" His sudden glare kept her from protesting further. "Okay, I'll answer. Not that it'll do any good," she continued under her breath. Any normal person wouldn't have heard her, she spoke too softly, but she should have known that Gehrman's hearing would be better than the average human.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing, nothing," she said, immediately backtracking. "A beast is what we hunt, right?" At his gesture, she continued. "Yes, I know that's obvious. Beasts are people that were cursed by the beast plague, or hunters who became addicted to the hunt and fell. There are different degrees of transformations based on the time they are infected, right?"

He sighed and put his fingers to his temples. "Incredible. The youth these days are stupider than I could have ever imagined. Everything you have said is wrong." She opened her mouth to rebuke him, but he shushed her. "Let me explain. Beasts can be humans or animals. I believe that you had to fight some dogs already. And there is no such thing as the beast plague. Let me explain before you say anything. A plague is something that can be contracted from others. The transformation from man to beast does not work like that. One can only become a beast if they have had some kind of blood transfusion. Before you scream, the transfusions themselves do not turn people into beasts. In the end, it is their addiction. We are all already beasts.

"Why the shocked face? All humans have the chance to become beasts. There is something primal inside us, locked away, but become addicted to the blood releases our primal side—the beast. The type of beast is based on the type of blood consumed—but this is another story." He took a deep breath. "This leads to my next question. What is a hunter? A being that renounces everything in order to fight the beast. Why must we give everything up, you may ask? Any interest outside the hunt can lead to the descent into beasthood. Ludwig, the most powerful of the church hunters, fell to his obsession with his sword, for example."

His face twisted, and his tone changed to one of disgust. "Laurence, the creator and first vicar of the Healing Church, fell to his desire for 'truth,' something that he never found. He became the first Cleric Beast. So we must only focus on the hunt. Do you have any outside interests, young hunter?" He glared at her, his eyes seeming to pierce her. She remained quiet for a time, lost in thought.

"I like weapons, helping good people and stopping bad ones. That's all."

The smile on his face, like a wolf to its prey, would give her nightmares. "Yes, you don't have to worry. Any interest you have is part of the hunt. How lucky you are."

She still doubted herself, and she noticed he hadn't completely answered her question. "But how can I make sure I don't fall to the thrill of the hunt?"

"You've already completed the first step to making sure you are safe. Only the hunt matters to you. The second is to remember you always have a choice. You can only fall if you allow it. It may be difficult sometimes, but you always have the option not to become a beast."

The hunter still looked confused. "Why did you explain beasts and hunters to me? I'm not complaining, it is just a bit strange."

He sighed. "So you can understand what you are fighting for. You are not fighting humans, but degenerates, weak beings that were incapable of keeping their desires under control. And you can become one of them. A hunter can become one of them if they are so weak. But I don't think you will. So focus on the hunt, and remember only weaklings fall."

The hunter remained quiet for a few moments. "Thank you, Gehrman. I think I'll be going now." She left the workshop as quickly as she could without arousing suspicion and descended the stairs.

"Hello, good hunter. What is it you desire?" She didn't jump this time, only took a sudden step back.

"Some answers would be good right now. I need to repair my weapons so I can return to the waking world."

"Of course, good hunter. And your attire?"

"What about it?"

"Will you continue to walk around in those torn clothes?"

She started to laugh. "Torn? It's not tor—" She looked down and saw the gaping hole in her shirt, and her face turned bright red. "Wait. So he saw and didn't….?" she stuttered.

"Good hunter, I did not mean to criticize your choice of attire. I have seen many different things before, but never one with an open chest. This has an objective in the hunt, though, I am sure?"

"Doll, please just get me a new set of clothing."

"Of course, good hunter. One with an open chest like the one you are wearing?"

Her face became even redder. "Of course not. Just some new clothes, please? Gods, I wish I could die."

"Why would you want to die, good hunter?"

* * *

She groaned as she strained against the door that the messengers had given her the key too. Why would anyone construct such a heavy door when all it led to was a tomb? When she had pushed at it enough to allow herself a small crack to slip through, she entered a passage. More sewers. Smaller this time, though, and they led to a room filled with coffins and a single ladder. The ladder in turn led to what appeared to be a study. Strange, considering where she had just come from.

On the other side of the room was a hallway, and next to it a chest that contained a blood gem workshop tool when she opened it. She was grateful for that, since being able to fortify her weapons with blood gems would make them stronger. She could feel the excitement building as she thought of all the combinations she could use to enhance her weapons. It took her some time to quiet her thoughts and continue through the hallway, to a set of stairs and another door that she had to use two hands to open.

The room she walked into was incredible. Statues, candles on the ground…it almost felt as if she was in another world. She could hear a bell tolling, and she knew that this was the Cathedral Ward. It was so different from where she'd come, she could hardly believe they were in the same world.

"Hello? Are you a hunter?" a small voice asked her. She turned around quickly to face the origin of the sound. What was that thing? It didn't quite appear human, with skeletal arms and white eyes, dark grey skin and a red cloth that covered its body.

"What are you?" she asked it. Silence. Maybe she'd disrespected it in some way? "I'm sorry, I've just never met someone like you….it's not a bad thing, just strange…."

"Hee hee hee hee," it laughed, and this went on for some time. It stopped after a while. "Don't' worry, hunter. You are not the first to say that. You are the first to apologize, however. That is a good thing." The way he said that set something roiling in the pit of her stomach. "Finally a hunter has arrived. Your ilk is so rare these days. What a bad thing, what a terrible thing. It must be the hunts. Whenever they come, your numbers dwindle, while folks hide in their homes waiting for it to end…hee hee hee hee. This night is different. This night will not end well. The ones in hiding are going mad. The screams of the beasts, the stench of the beasts, all so common now, hee hee hee. I tell you, Yharnam is done this time. There will be no more city. If you meet someone who needs a place to stay, tell them to come here. The incense wards the beasts. Spread the word, hunter…hee hee hee."

She couldn't quite tell whether or not he was a threat. She didn't trust him, but then again, there was a lamp nearby. If he did anything, she could gain easy access to him, for the hunt. And that woman near the sewers—here was a place she could stay. But first, she needed to figure out how to get to the Grand Cathedral itself.

"Do you know how to get to the Grand Cathedral? I need to look for paleblood."

"The way is closed until the end of the hunt. They say it's to keep the beasts outside such a holy place…or maybe it's to keep the beasts already there in. Hee hee hee hee…." Why did he laugh all the time? The sound of it gave her chills. "But there is a way, if I recall. A locked door." He pointed at a door next to a small plateau. "If you cannot cross by land, why not by sky, hee hee hee?"

"Thank you. That's very helpful, but if it's locked, how will I get in? Do you have the key?"

"Of course not, hunter. There are two keys. One in the Grand Cathedral and one in the Old Cathedral." She was steadily becoming more and more confused. Why were they keys in places that were so hard to find? The name "Old Cathedral" itself implied difficulty. "The door that leads to the Healing Church's workshop stays closed. It only opens when the hunt ends, hee hee hee. The only ones that can open the doors are the vicars. Vicar Amelia might…but she is inaccessible…"

"A vicar? What's that?"

"A vicar leads the Healing Church, ever since the tragic death of Laurence. Vicar Amelia would have a key to the Healing Church's workshop."

Things made more sense now—but the question of how to get the key still remained. "But how will I get the door open?"

"As I said. There is another. The center of the Healing Church was in Old Yharnam, in the Old Cathedral. It was burned and locked away, but they said the vicar didn't have time to escape. The corpse would have the key I hope, ha ha ha."

The sound of his laughter sent shivers down her spine, but she persisted. "How do you know all of this? How can I get to Old Yharnam? Why did it catch fire, and why did they lock it away?"

"Hee hee hee, so many questions. I was born and raised in Old Yharnam, and the rest is history. You can access it by taking that passage over there." He pointed to his left with a skeletal hand. "Go down until you find a mausoleum, and look for a lever to open the way. They built it to seal the entrance. The city fell to a hunt of enormous proportions, so big they had to burn it out to stop the spread. I still believe today will be the worst, though, and in the end there will be no one left to burn the city, ha ha ha."

"Thank you, I suppose…I'll be going now." She descended the stairs again, following his gesture after she lit the lamp. As she was about to leave, he called to her.

"If you find anyone needing shelter, send them here if they are worthy. I hope they are, I really hope they are, hee hee hee hee." She couldn't help but be a bit terrified of him, but compared to some of the others she had met he seemed downright normal. Still, she hurried away from him as fast as she could, until she found the mausoleum. There were a lot of beasts, but it wasn't any trouble to her to kill them now that she knew what she was doing. When she pulled the lever he'd told her about, a large coffin in the middle of the structure moved to reveal a staircase. But there was still an entrance she hadn't checked, and she didn't want any beasts on her tail.

Through the door was a set of stairs with a statue at the end—but it seemed as if there was something there. She approached cautiously, afraid that it was a beast, but she could hear a voice. "…made our blades sharp, our weapons charged to fight against the corrupted Vilebloods." Human. She relaxed visibly, and at her sigh of relief the figure stood and turned. It was a tall man, his attire that of a priest, with shaggy blond hair and strange green eyes. He wore a serious expression, and was strangely clean—no dirt, no scars or marks. She had been in the city for only a short time and had already sustained a number of scars herself. This wasn't a hunter, she thought. This was a priest of the Healing Church.

"You are a hunter, are you not?" he said. "I can tell. I started as one of you, before I assumed a higher position….but where are my manners? I am Alfred, protégé of Master Logarius and an executioner, a hunter of the corrupted Vilebloods." He spat the word angrily. "The beast that we hunt are different, but a hunter is a hunter, so why not share our knowledge?"

"All right, then," she said cautiously. "Can I see your weapons?" Of course the second she found a friendly hunter, this was the first thing she asked. The crow woman was right, she was disrespectful.

"Of course, young hunter. Take a look. They were made by the most prestigious artifacts of the Healing Church workshop, the design crafted by the first and eternal leader of the executioners, Master Logarius, and blessed by the vicar before every hunt." He removed his weapon from his back, and it appeared to be two wheels held together by handles he would use to attack. She knew it on sight, and it felt like a dream come true.

"It drains the user's blood to increase its power! You can spin it, and the wheels open and blood causes the extra damage to accumulate. It does drain the life of the user, however. The wood required to make it is extremely rare, because it needs to not absorb the blood, and the metal must allow it to accumulate…." She was sparkling with happiness, and she didn't even notice she was rambling. The executioner simply allowed her to continue. "….and that's how it's possible to keep the blood inside….it's so beautiful…."

Alfred put his weapon back in its holster. "Now that you've sated your curiosity, is there anything else you would like to speak of, hunter?"

She blushed, aware that she had been talking a while. "I'm sorry. It's just that your weapon is so beautiful and—I'll stop now."

He smiled. "It's no trouble. I remember when I was like you, when I first became an apprentice. Here, take these to help you in your hunt." He gave her a set of fire papers. She liked him, she realized. He let her see his weapon and helped her and didn't get annoyed at her ramblings like the crow woman. He did say he wasn't a hunter anymore, though. Had he found the paleblood? Or had he finished his contract? She needed to know, and most importantly, to figure out how he did not succumb to the hunt. She still had her own doubts.

"You are not a hunter anymore, right? How did you get out of it? Did you find the paleblood or terminate a contract?"

"You misunderstand, young one. I am a hunter, but of a different kind. I hunt the decadents, the corrupted Vilebloods. I know nothing about contracts or Paleblood. It could be in the Healing Church, though, because it deals with all manner of blood, or far away in Byrgenwerth." She sighed internally. Yet another place to search.

"What are Vilebloods? Are they some kind of beast, like cleric beasts?"

"There are no such things as cleric beasts. Members of the Church don't succumb to the plague. That is a lie told by the insidious Vilebloods. What are they? Rats, hiding in the dark, trying to destroy the sacred Church. Coward, hiding in their castle and silently attacking the population to dry them of their blood. Parasites that stole the rightful blood of the Church and twisted it to their own amusements to please their undead queen. But they have been attacked! Master Logarius delivered the hammer of justice by attacking them in their own home at Cainhurst. There the Undead Queen is trapped."

"But what about the children in the castle? Did you hurt them?"

He smirked. "There were no children. Only Vilebloods, and all of them were killed by Master Logarius and his faithful followers, the executioners. Unfortunately, he is still there trapping the Undead Queen and cannot become a Martyr, a title that he well deserves."

"So why don't you go to the castle and free him?"

He sighed. "To enter, you need an invitation. The first time we received one, it was from a traitor, but still I look for one, to finally honor my master's wishes."

She placed her hand on his shoulder gently. "I know you will. I have to go, to look for this paleblood. If I find an invitation to the castle, I will deliver it to you."

He smiled sadly. "Thank you, young hunter. May the good blood guide your way."

* * *

How she hadn't noticed the beast lurking in the corner that whole time was beyond her. Now she would have to make that long trek all over again. As she materialized in the waking world, she saw the Odeon Chapel dweller motioning her over with his bony hands. "Hello again, hunter! Another of your ilk has passed by here. They are just outside. I don't know what kind of trouble two hunters can get in, hee hee hee hee."

She walked outside nervously. Another hunter? How had she not seen them? To her left was the crow woman close to a parapet observing the town below "Hello," she said as she approached. What are you doing here?"

"We meet again, young hunter. Your timing is good. I must warn you: do not go to the Tomb of Odeon. Henryk, an old hunter who has gone mad, is there, and he is my mark." She was speaking quickly and directly. "Tell me, have you found what you've been looking for?"

She had forgotten until just now that she'd been looking for the mother of the girl in the window. "No, I haven't."

"I see." There was a moment of silence. "I saw you talking to Alfred."

"How? I didn't see you anywhere!"

"Some secrets are best left alone."

She crossed her arms, looking at the woman judgmentally. "Why are you following me?"

"I was making sure Alfred had not fallen."

"Why would he fall? He's so kind, and strong too. He would never fall!"

"Why do you think that? Because he let you see his weapon? Nice and strong, ha! Don't worry, hunters cannot get pregnant." She looked down at the ground, embarrassed.

"It's nothing like that. He just showed me his weapon—not like that, I swear!—and he gave me some papers after….I'll stop talking now." She could see the woman smirking behind my mask.

"I know. I was watching, remember? My point is, Alfred is not the most stable individual. Did you see his eyes?"

Why was she even asking that? His eyes didn't look like a beasts. "Yes. They were green. Not black."

"His pupils have started to collapse. A sign of falling. But still, he retains his sanity, because he is obsessed with making his master a Martyr. If he manages to do that, I don't know what he'll do next. Hopefully he wouldn't turn into a beast." Silence again. "He is the strongest apprentice of Logarius and he was responsible for the end of the Albin."

"The Albin? What's that?"

"They were a family in Yharnam, and an incredibly rich one at that—so much so that they bribed the council to leave them alone in their own district."

"Why? Are they like Vilebloods, hunting others for their blood?"

She sighed. "It's a bit of a mystery. No one really knows why. One says because they're all beasts, another because there were Vilebloods attacking the city, another because they were obsessed with keeping their reputation intact. They were white."

"What? Like, white skin and hair?"

She sighed again, deeper this time. "If it was only that, they wouldn't have had a problem. No, they were obsessed with the color white. Their entire district was white—their hair, their skin, their clothes. Except for the eyes. The eyes were red, and that was only because they consumed blood in impossible amounts. There were about sixty of them. Women, men, children, and though a thousand liters of blood will normally supply a district for a week, they consumed more in one day."

"So they were just a group of oddities? Just some recluses that wanted larger amounts of blood? How is that a crime?"

"You're right, that alone isn't a crime, but this behavior generated rumors. The most prominent of them was that they were an advance base of Vilebloods. The family was so controlling that they more or less taxed every ship that entered, and the Church wanted that money, but they couldn't simply take the Albin's business. They tried to buy it, but were always refused. So he Church forged some papers that proved they were a branch of Vilebloods and sent the executioners to clean the district out. Logarius refused, because he didn't believe it, and he didn't allow the executioners to go—but Alfred went alone anyway. The Albin had hired mercenaries and even a few hunters to resist the purging, but it was all for nothing. Alfred painted the white district red, and there were no survivors." The young hunter bit her lip nervously. He had appeared to kind, but to hear this…. "That's why I watch him. If he's lost even a small part of his mind, there's no telling what might happen. Take this as a warning, young hunter. Take care of who you approach."

And with that she walked away. She was probably going to fight the fallen hunter, and if he was anything like Father Gascoigne, the young one thought, she might need some help.

She proceeded to the tomb despite the hunter's warning, thinking about what she had heard. It was hard to reconcile the Alfred she had met with the one the crow woman described. It didn't seem right that someone that kind could do something like that while still retaining their sanity. She shook off the thought, though, knowing she had to move on.

At the bottom of the stairs below the tomb stood an individual in light brown hunter attire and a strange hat topped with a large feather. When he saw her he charged in her direction, brandishing a saw cleaver and a pistol. She didn't care if this was Henryk or not. He was attacking her, so he had to die.

He approached her with a horizontal slash, and she jumped back, retaliating in kind and making him stumble. He continued to jump back and attack her, and she reciprocated, until his next attack hit her in the arm. She injected a blood vial to heal the broken bone, and then dodged his slash, parrying with her gun. Her shot missed the first time, but the second one hit, and she pulled off a visceral attack. He fell to the ground, releasing a jet of blood, but immediately rocketed back up and shot her. The smell was returning—no, not again.

She dodged another attack and shot in response. He ignored the shot, retreating into the darkness and pressing something against the blade of his saw cleaver. The weapon started to emit sparks, and as he jumped closer to her, she realized it had been bolt paper. She was faster than him, though, and managed to stun him with a quick flurry of attacks. He took them all and responded with one of his own. When the electricity brushed against her skin, she almost fainted, as the wound grew numb and sent pain throughout her entire body. She did her best to retreat, but it was difficult when he wouldn't stop slashing at her. She felt her back hit one of the graves, and knew she had run out of room to hide.

He prepared to jump at her while she was trapped, but all of sudden he fell to his knees and was thrown on the ground. The crow woman had appeared, and they were fighting, having forgotten about her all together. She took the advantage to inject a vial of blood attack him from behind, and they continued in kind, slowly draining his life until he jumped at the young hunter in one desperate attempt and she threw a Molotov cocktail at him. As he burned, the crow woman decapitated him. She silently thanked the gods that the older hunter had appeared. She didn't know if she could've handled another loss of control, and she knew that if she had continued, she would fall.

The crow woman looked at her. "This was not necessary, hunter, but thank you. You are not a young hunter anymore, I see." She pointed at the now-dead Henryk. "He was falling apart after the death of Father Gascoigne. The two were very close. But remember, you should hunt beasts, not other hunters. This is my job."

"What about executioners who hunt Vilebloods?"

"Vilebloods are a special case. They're like a dog and a cat in a house on fire, killing each other while everything burns. I hunt them only when they harm others."

"Why only when they attack others? They've fallen to the hunt, right?"

The woman put her weapons away. "No. I have never met a fallen Vileblood, or executioner for that matter. The blood they received prevented that I speculate they can only get crazy but is much harder I believe see our friend Alfred with the things he had done any hunter would already have fallen even with his pupils collapsing he would not become a beast." This was marvelous news to her. She needed to discover how to become an executioner right away, to remove her chances of succumbing to the plague.

"How does one become an executioner? Just out of curiosity."

"It is impossible to become one. The only one who could make you one is Logarius, and he is missing."

"What about a Vileblood?" She could tell the woman was looking at her as if she had grown a second head, but she was past the point of caring.

"Find Cainhurst and the Undead Queen." She felt so small under that stare, but the woman wasn't finished. "Hunter, I too had trouble dealing with the thrill of the hunt and the fear of failure. I looked for miraculous solutions too. Remember this: you always have a choice." The same thing Gehrman had said to her, and the same result—she was becoming increasingly angrier.

"Choice? What choice to I have? When I smell it, I lose control, I just want more and more. I'm not myself. You say I have a choice, but if I'm not myself, how do I? I've got no chance in that state, and if it happens again I'll fall. I need something, I…." Her voice had become low and horse, filled with fear and desperation. "I'm not that strong. I'm sorry."

Everything was quiet for a few moments. The crow woman began to walk away, then paused.

"The difference between a hunter and a beast is that we have choices. The beasts are slaves to their desires, but hunters struggle. They persist. And they can only be defeated when they give up. You will submit only because you feel you can't handle it. You are wrong. You are stronger than you know. Goodbye, Hunter. May the good blood guide you. And the woman you're looking for is over there," she said, pointing as she walked away. It was upsetting, knowing that she simply wasn't that strong. The hunter was wrong, she simply couldn't resist, and her only escape route had been destroyed.

She started to walk the way the crow woman had shown her, towards the mangled victims of Father Gascoigne. There was a woman there, wearing a red jeweled brooch. Viola. Now what would she say to the girl? That her father had killed her mother? She would have to think of something on the way.

 **Review so i can know if i am making a good job or a abomination. Update in 30/11/2016 or 11/30/2016**

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	5. What's a hunter? Part 4

**Beta by Bellum Gerere**

 **I am thinking of writing another story, i have this idea in my head and it simply won't get out so i started to write something about it is still in my native language so i will need to translate to english find a beta then finally release it. I had this idea from reading another fan fiction that unfortunately never finished and the last chapters were ''okay'' but the main idea was very good.**

 **Before any of you ask i don't write chapters of a Rose Born In Blood in my native language anymore only the old first and second chapters were written like that i stopped because i take to much time to translate and the results weren't great. So nowadays i write in english and send to me beta that fix my mistakes and i forgot to add her names last chapter**

She stood in front of the window, unsure of what to say and twisting her hands nervously. _"I found your mother, but your father killed her. Here's her brooch. Bye."_ No, that clearly wouldn't work. By the gods, she could never be that heartless, even though she had a feeling the girl would never forgive her for the news she was about to deliver no matter how she did it. As she was contemplating, the girl had approached the window. She had run out of time.

"Hello, Miss Hunter. Have you found my mummy?"

It's now or never, she thought to herself. "Yes, I found your mother. She's in Odeon Chapel, waiting for you. She even gave me this brooch to prove to you that she's there."

She heard a squeal of happiness. "Thank you, Miss Hunter, thank you! I almost love you now! Not as much as my mummy, daddy, grandpa Henryk and big sister, of course. I'll go to this Odeon Chapel right now to meet her…." The voice faltered a bit, taking on a more serious tone. "Did you find my daddy, Miss Hunter?"

She felt truly awful now, lying to the girl in order to spare her feelings, but she couldn't go back now that the girl thought her mother was alive. "Yes, I found him. He was hunting near the Great Bridge. I simply used the music box and we had a chat, you know, about the hunt…."

"Yes! The music box always makes daddy remember," she said happily. She wished she could tell the girl that it had not worked. "Did you like him? Isn't he the strongest hunter?"

 _So strong he was almost able to kill me_ , she thought. "Yes. He's very tall…and very strong. He could tear someone apart, and he moves in ways I can't comprehend or dodge. He's a great hunter, one that would never falter unless he got distracted."

"And Grandpa Henryk, did you meet him? He always stays close to daddy. I like Grandpa Henryk. He's nice, and he always gives us new toys and shows us how he puts electrickity in his weapons. It's so pretty! It makes a lot of sparks."

"No, but you said that you will go to the chapel, right? I can protect you along the way. I'm a hunter, and it's my job to protect the people."

"But mummy says I shouldn't walk with strangers."

"I'm not a stranger, though. I'm a hunter, and I've met your mother. She would want me to protect you." She hoped the little girl couldn't see the pained expression on her face. She hated lying, especially to children, and she was awful at it to boot.

"Okay, Miss Hunter. I'm going outside after I put on my shoes."

Good. She finally had a chance to perform her other duty as a hunter—the one that didn't run the risk of turning her into a nightmarish creature. Not only that, but she could fulfill the dream she had as a child of being a hero who killed monsters and saved the innocent. Being a hunter wasn't like that. There was no glamour, killing monsters could turn her into one if she didn't take care, and no one wanted to be helped. She would have to find the grumpy old woman, too, and escort her to the chapel, not to mention make sure that the creepy man who lived there didn't do anything. It might be a good idea to check him for weapons. He was always on the ground—maybe he couldn't walk? That would make things easier for her, though it would probably be best to just kill him. She had no doubt that's what Gerhman would suggest, but then again, he had helped her. The crow lady hadn't touched him either, so she figured there was probably nothing wrong with him. If he took action, she would kill him, but not before then.

She probably should have saved the old woman first. Gave her a gun and then delivered the message to the girl. But then how would she know that the girl would want to find a place of refuge? She could try to escort them both, but then she would have to traverse the infested city with a child and an elderly woman, neither of whom would be able to defend themselves. It seemed to her like a recipe for disaster. If defending one was hard, it would be that much more difficult to defend two. She was making things too complicated…save the girl, then the old woman, kill the chapel dweller if he tried anything. She could give the child a gun to defend herself—no, that presented too much potential for danger.

Meanwhile, the girl had left the house and was standing in front of the hunter. She was wearing a brown dress, tied around her waist, and white shoes. She certainly knew how to move quietly if she could surprise even a hunter, but she always worried about what would happen if she surprised one—her father and grandfather had taught her never to do that. So she called them first. "I'm here, Miss Hunter."

The hunter turned around, aiming her gun at the sound, then she saw the girl, small and blonde with a white ribbon tied in her hair. "Hello. I'm going to escort you to your mother now." _You deserve to become a_ monster, she thought, _giving this girl all this false hope, when her whole family is dead._ "Come with me."

The girl moved closer to the hunter, surprising her when she threw her arms around her waist. "Thank you, Miss Hunter, thank you!"

She swallowed back the guilt as she looked down at her. She felt terrible, but what would happen to the girl if she had told her? Would she cry? Stay in that unsafe home? It was for the best. "Okay, let's go! Your mother awaits."

She waited for the girl before she descended the ladder, and made sure she stayed behind her as she scanned the area. There were only a few crows in the distance, which she shot easily. Eventually they arrived at another ladder, the one that would take them down into the sewers. "I don't want to go down there," the girl said. "It smells bad."

The hunter sighed. "Me too, but it's the only way. If we want to meet your mother, who is alive, we need to go that way."

The girl took a deep breath before they went down together. While they were climbing the ladder, she said "Miss Hunter, why did you become a hunter?"

"When I arrived in Yharnam, I needed a blood transfusion badly, but I didn't have the money. A man offered to do it for me, but only if I signed a contract entailing that I become a hunter in exchange for the treatment."

For a minute the only sound was that of their boots on the metal rungs. "Miss Hunter?"

"Yes, what?"

"What is entailing?"

She'd forgotten how incessantly curious children could be. "It means it was necessary. I had to become a hunter if I got the transfusion."

"Ohh." Silence once more. "Miss Hunter, are you happy being a hunter?"

 _What a strange question_ , she thought. "If I'm not, why does it matter? It's only a job."

"Daddy was always sad when he arrived home in the morning, and the hunt made him happy." It was already clear that Father Gascoigne was addicted to the hunt if they had to use music to bring him back to reality, but of course it was luck that he wasn't home when that happened. What was she supposed to say?

"Yes, some hunters like it, to remove beasts and help people. You know how it is…that's our job."

"But do _you_ like it, Miss Hunter?"

"I don't know. It's hard, but someone has to do it."

"That doesn't answer my question." She knew the answer, she cursed silently, but _because I love the sensation of blood_ wasn't an appropriate answer for a child, and besides that, those kinds of thoughts led to beasthood.

"Yes, I know. It's just a very complicated question."

They had arrived at the end of the ladder by the time she spoke again. "Don't worry. Daddy doesn't know the answer either."

The sewers smelled even worse now than they had the last time she'd been there. The scent of rotten blood was more prominent than anything else, and it was clear the girl had noticed. "It smells really bad."

The hunter grinned, close-lipped. "Of course, this is the sewers. There's a bit more walking we have to do before we arrive."

She looked horrified. "Walk? In that water?" She looked at its surface like it might kill her. The hunter didn't blame her—if one looked closely enough, they could see the carcasses of small animals floating around in the liquid. "I won't. It will make my clothes stink."

The hunter sighed. She supposed she could always carry the girl on her back and take a blood vial for the pain, but it might be at the risk of her reaction time….. "I can carry you on my back."

Her face immediately lit up. "Like when I play horsey with daddy?"

"I suppose. Come on, let's go find your mummy." She stooped to let the girl climb on her back before she descended the final ladder. She wasn't too heavy, thanks to the power she'd received from the doll. They walked for a while, shooting the "zombies," as the young one called them.

"Yes, Miss Hunter," the girl would say whenever she killed something. "That monster won't hurt anyone anymore."

"That's not a monster. It's a beast."

"Of course that's not a beast! It's a monster! Mummy, daddy and grandpa told me that hunters fight monsters, not beasts."

"Well, I suppose that's sort of true. Beasts can be monsters—"

Her musings were interrupted by their arrival at the tunnel, with the ladder to the right. She could make it up, but she wouldn't be able to carry the girl, as there would be beasts at the top. She'd already been hurled from it once, she couldn't risk her life a second time, not to mention the girl's. There was another tunnel, but she didn't know what was inside. The exit, though, would take her away from the potential of wandering beasts. She could probably outrun anything in the tunnels, most of the beasts were slower than her anyway. Only the dogs were fast—and Father Gascoigne, of course, but those had been different cases. The chances of a dog there were slim to none, and the crow woman's words had implied that only Henryk and Gascoigne had lost their minds, so there would be no chance of fallen hunters.

As she entered the tunnel, she couldn't help but notice that the smell was even worse this time. "Miss Hunter, why are we in the tunnel? It's scary," the girl said, her voice echoing. It was almost entirely dark, but being a hunter, her eyesight was better than most. Still, it was hard to fight the growing sensation of fear in her.

"Because if we take the ladder, the beasts will attack us when we get to the top."

"Not beasts!" the girl yelled. "Monsters!"

Suddenly a loud grunt came from in front of her, as well as the sound of huge, heavy steps. "Miss Hunter," the girl said in a tremulous voice, "what is that?"

The hunter pulled out her gun and started shooting in front of her, all the while steadily taking steps backwards. Then the thing moved into a shaft of light—a hulking shape, moving impossibly fast. She turned and tried to run, but the girl on her back weighed her down, and then she felt a pain on her back, heard a shriek….

And she was back in the dream. She had died, but what happened to the girl? She immediately jumped up and ran to the tombstone, searching frantically for the Tomb of Odeon. As she vanished, she could hear the doll trying to ask her what was wrong, but she ignored her. As soon as she materialized in the tomb she hit the ground running, heading towards the other ladder. She had hoped the beast might be more interested in her body than the girl, but her body would have vanished as she returned to the dream…and there was no place for the girl to hide. But she was alive, of course she was. She reached the ladder and descended it as fast as she could. The left side of the tunnel was a dead end, so she turned right. Then she heard it. Another loud grunt. She couldn't retreat, not now when the life of another was in danger. She arrived at an opening in the tunnel, and in front of her was a giant pig, its body covered in pustules and its mouth full of blood. The blood of the girl—but she immediately retracted that thought. She couldn't be dead. She was fine. That couldn't be her blood.

She lunged forward and attacked the pig, but it ignored any damage she did to hit and lowered its head, trying to do a head slam. She moved to its rear while slashing at him. She knew his body was too massive, and it would take too long to hit something that wasn't just flesh if she continued this way. Its attack missed, and it started to rise onto its hind legs. She dodged to its rear, wondering if it would be affected by a charge attack to the back. She tried and it worked—the pig was stunned, and she stuck her hand in its…well, she didn't want to think about it, it was too surreal and disgusting, but it killed the thing all the same. Now the girl….

She started to call out as she was looking around, referring to her only as "the girl," since she didn't actually know her name. "It's me," she yelled. "It's Miss Hunter. Where are you?" If she wasn't responding, she thought with panic, she must be dead. But no, no, of course not, she had to be alive. But then she stumbled upon a body. One the exact height of the girl, with the same hair and clothes, and the same ribbon on her red-stained hair.

It wasn't her, though. It was someone else. Of course. She moved closer, and turned it over with the toe of her boot. The stomach was lacerated, organs spilling out where the pig had eaten into her. The eyes were open and accusing, tear tracks cutting through the blood on its face. Lips cold, blue and broken, covered in waste from the sewer water. She pulled the body into her lap, ignoring the offal. "Wake up. The beast is already dead." Strange, why was there blood on her face? "Let's go. Your mother is waiting in the chapel. Your father too." More blood was starting to fall on her face. Why wasn't she waking up? "Please just wake up. Just wake up. Please. Not you, not you…" Her face was completely drenched in blood now. She realized that she was crying—the tears of hunters were made of blood, not saltwater.

She was acting automatically now. She picked up the body and carried it to the tomb, searching for the corpse of her mother. Once she found it, she placed them next to each other, finally together in death. _ASSASSIN._ She stepped back and threw a Molotov cocktail at the bodies. She couldn't let them rot, burning would be better. _MONSTER._ The only thing left of them was the red ribbon in her hands. She would bring it back to the home of the girl. _FAILURE_.

The walk took some time, and when she arrived she could still feel the guilt. Now what? _KILLER_. She could hear a voice from the window. "Hello, hunter. Have you seen my little sister? I told her to stay home and wait for mother, but she's not here anymore. She might have left to look for her. Please, if you find her , take her home. She wears a big white ribbon."

The voice was older, a bit more mature. _UNWORTHY._ The hunter handed the ribbon through the window with shaking hands, and a moment later she could hear strangled sobs. "How could this happen? Why would she go outside? …at least I'll have something to remember her by…." She couldn't take the despair in the voice. _NOTHING_.

The hunter descended the ladder and was trying to leave as quickly as possible when she heard a heavy sound behind her. She spun around. _BEAST._ A body had landed on the ground behind her. As she approached, she saw it was holding on to something. The ribbon. The one she'd given to the older sister of the girl she let…. _ANIMAL._ The ribbon had been washed. It was white again. Something snapped inside of her.

 _DISGUSTING._

* * *

It was just another moment for the Doll. The hunter had returned to the hunt, and now she waited for her to return, or for Gerhman to need something. For now, she tended to the flowers in the graveyard. She approached the grave closest to the workshop. She always went to that one—she didn't know why, but something about it attracted her. From her high position, she saw something by the gate to the main garden. It was a figure. Not Gerhman, he was in the workshop. Another hunter, perhaps? She started to walk towards it, and as she got closer she saw it was the good hunter, just standing there looking at nothing.

"Hello, good hunter. May I ask what you are doing?" When the hunter looked at her, her face as strange. She could tell something had happened.

"Nothing." Why would a hunter do nothing? Every hunter that came through was always constantly on the move. The only ones who weren't were the ones who had given up.

"Have you given up the hunt, good hunter?"

"Doll, I'm a failure."

"Why are you a failure, good hunter? According to the little ones, you defeated two large beasts and accumulated many blood echoes."

The hunter sighed. "There was a girl. She asked me to look for her mother, but when I found her she was dead. When I went back to the girl, I didn't have the heart to tell her what happened. I lied to her to get her to come with me. I wanted to take her somewhere more secure." Her voice was bitter now. "I removed a child from her already secure home to make her walk a deadly city to a place I'm not even sure is safe. What an amazing hunter I am," she said self-deprecatingly. "Just because I thought her being alone was dangerous. But it gets better." She took a deep breath. "I had to go a different way than I normally did because I was carrying her, and then guess what happened?"

"I don't know, good hunter."

"She died because of me. I killed her. And then I decided to return her to her home, I don't know why. I just hadn't already killed enough, I suppose." She laughed hysterically, and the doll looked at her with a blank face. "Then I met her sister. I gave her the ribbon of her dead little sister and when I left, she jumped down a ladder to her death."

Her voice lost its mocking edge, and became low. "I killed her. Not with my hands, but with my actions. I'm a failure as a hunter. I've almost lost myself to the hunt before. I'm the worst one to ever exist." She sighed again. "It wasn't supposed to be like that…the hunt."

"What do you mean, good hunter?''

"When I was young, I heard stories about the hunt and hunters. There was a giant library in my home, three stories, actually, though the third was more symbolic. It was really just a way to the roof. Anyway, my mother was always involved in keeping house, and since we lived in an isolated place I didn't have other children to play with. It was an old home, very comfortable. But I was the oldest of all the children of families that lived there, and my parents didn't allow me to play with the young ones. So I spent all my time in the library reading. I read so many stories about knights that saved the day, killing demons. I knew about hunters since I was a child. The idea started to grow on me. In my head, they were these beings that faced the most vicious beasts and always ended up saving the city. I wanted to be a hunter so I could be like that. A hero. A modern knight that saved the day and all those things. I liked weapons, too. My father had an old rifle that he always let me tinker with, and after I'd insisted more times than I could count he took me to the woods to hunt. That was the memory I had when I almost lost control." She put her head in her hands shamefully.

"Then, not very long ago, something happened in my home. My family owed someone a favor, a big one, which involved me for some reason. About how I was born, I think? They didn't explain it to me. But at the time I was having some health problems, enough to be an excuse for leaving. I said I was going to Yharnam for a blood transfusion and left with only the clothes on my back. I lost the hat, though. A tricorn hat with a feather. I took some money too. My plan was to delay this deal for as long as I could.

"When I arrived in the city, I tried to get a transfusion, but it was too expensive, so I made a deal with a blood minister. I would become a hunter in order to pay for the treatment. I still had these childish ideas of what being a hunter was in my head, and I was so desperate that I agreed. I didn't think it was going to be like this. I wanted to be seen as a hero, not have the population hate me. The beasts look human and I have to deal with the chance that I might become one of them. And I don't save people. I kill them." She choked back a sob. "I was supposed to find the girl's mother and reunite them somewhere safe, not find her dead, and kill her father and her grandfather. And after all that, I let her die because of my stupid mistake, and killed her sister with my actions. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was going to be my childhood dream, not a nightmare."

For a moment, everything was quiet. "Then tell me, good hunter, will you just stay here?"

"Yes. I can't make any more mistakes like this. I don't want to kill people. I don't want to become a beast."

"Good hunter, you are not the first to give up the hunt. Why do you think there are so many tombstones without names? They are all hunters like you. They simply fade away, forgotten in the waking world and the dream. Tell me, good hunter, do you wish to fade away?"

The hunter looked up, her eyes shining with tears. "What do you suggest, then? Going back to the city after all I've done? Pretending it never happened?" She bit her lip and looked down again.

"If you stay here, good hunter, they will have died in vain. There is no one left to end the hunt tonight. You are the only one."

"And what will happen if I'm left unchecked?"

"I don't know, good hunter. This question is beyond me. But as a wise hunter always said, the worst sin is not to act."

"And what if I make these mistakes again? Or I lose myself? Wouldn't it be better if someone else assumed my place?"

"Good hunter, there is no one else."

"What do you mean? Of course there is. Alfred. The crow woman. Much better hunters than I, and they have experience and no chance of becoming beasts."

"Good hunter, they are not like you. You are attached to the dream, so you cannot truly die. You can take on the most powerful beasts again and again until you succeed. You learn by dying. These hunters don't have this choice. Why do you think the hunters say they can only die when you give up? You can only truly die when you stay here."

"So the crow woman was a hunter of this workshop?"

"Yes," said a voice, and she spun around to see Gerhman behind her. He'd arrived so silently that she didn't even notice him until just then. "She was. One of the best. So much she earned the title of hunter of hunters. And yes, I was listening to you. What happened was tragic, but will you just stay here? No, don't answer. Listen to me. You killed some innocents. But then what? You can forget that your job is saving innocents. Hunters don't do that. We kill the beasts. We clean up the messes, not help people. When we try…well, you see what happens. If you hadn't done that, the girls would still be alive, right?"

The hunter look confused. Yes, when she'd tried to help it had only made things worse, but... "So, I must always ignore the population, even if they are in need?"

Gehrman rolled his eyes. "If you find someone out and in need of help during the hunt, they deserve to die for their stupidity. But if you want to help, provide them with basic knowledge. Tell them of any places free of beasts. But don't offer to escort them, or search for missing people. This is not our job. We deal with the beasts that others ignore. You will be much more useful killing them than trying to help people. Understand?"

"But—but we can…help…" she stuttered.

"Yes. We can. And you tried. But tell me, did it work?" The hunter looked down shamefaced, and bit her lip. "I thought so. Abandon your childish fantasies and start hunting again. Beasts won't die by themselves."

The hunter was thinking yes that notion of helping the people was one she only see in her children books she tried to apply them and she failed. Yes Gehrman was right she was a hunter not a hero or a noble knight she only had one function kill the beasts. But first she would need to resolve the problem of failing to beast hood, now first find a way to get to the old cathedral trying at the same time find any clue of an invitation to Castle Cainhurst.

She stood and marched to the tombstone, still clutching the white ribbon that now only represented her failure. She knotted it on her left arm as a constant reminder of what she had done. What she tried to be. She knew now that she was no hero. She was a hunter, and a hunter must return to the hunt. There was no one else. Only her.

 **Next Chapter in 10/12/2016 or 12/10/2016**

 **I know that accelerate some events but some things will change to accommodate the story**

 **Review,pm or anything so i can know that i am doing a good job**

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	6. Chapter 6

**I had to written this author notes five times because my shit wifi is falling because it's raining and unfortunately this isn't a joke. I forget what i was gonna to say so to the story.**

 **Beta by Bellum Gerere**

 **"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you."**  
 **―** **Friedrich Nietzsche(Beyond Good and Evil)**

She was hoping to find a lot of things in Iosefka's Clinic. More blood vials, for one. Information about paleblood, or maybe a huge beast feeding on the clinic's stored blood. But when she returned to the place where she had awoken, it had been ransacked. The back door, however, was unlocked, and nothing could have prepared her for what was inside—an invitation to Cainhurst castle. Something she had given up hope of ever finding. Even more baffling, it was addressed to her. _The hunter of the Hunter's Dream Workshop_. As far as she knew, there was only one. Her.

The invitation told her to go to Hemwick Crossing and a stagecoach would await to pick her up. The place where she had killed the witches of Hemwick, nasty old ladies that had been the leaders of that place. The fight resembled a game of cat-and-mouse more than an actual fight, and had her searching the room for the witches while avoiding some strange beasts, tall things with sickles. The reward had been a Rune Workshop Took, one that belong to the Hunter's dream, according to Gehrman. The promise of finding it was what had motivated her to divert from her path to the Great Cathedral down Hemwick Charnel Lane.

Now, it seemed, not only did this path hold the possibility of equipping runes, but the way to Cainhurst Castle, where she could finally be free of the possibility of succumbing to beasthood. She'd had trouble when she ran across the Blood-Starved Beast. It had spilled so much blood (despite its name) and it was _so sweet_. The blood of the transformed Vicar Amelia had not been quite so great, but the quality was so much better, since it wasn't poisoned like the Blood-Starved Beast's had been. Hers was so _smooth_ , and resisting it had been far more difficult.

She needed something to help her, and this short walk had provided her just that—the chance to find Master Logarius and become an executioner. No more worrying about falling to beasthood. She could finally focus on the hunt and getting to Byrgenwerth to look for this so-called paleblood. But first she needed to find a way to control her thirst. First she needed to get there.

* * *

When she reached Hemwick Crossing, the area was almost empty. She could see some beasts skulking in the distance, but she had just killed all of the area's other inhabitants before sunset. It didn't take long, however, for the area to be refilled with beasts. This was true of the entire city—she'd clean out a block and then, five minutes later, it would be full again. According to Gehrman, she had to focus on the large beasts. They were the most problematic, and killing them was the only way to end the hunt.

Refocusing, she looked around at the corpses bound on poles along an abandoned road, with weeds growing beneath the cobblestones. It clearly hadn't been used in a long time, and it ended in a broken bridge. How, she wondered, would the stagecoach be able to reach the castle, if the bridge was broken? She noticed a pillar that looked like it came straight out of a cathedral—well decorated, but covered in moss and ivy. As she approached it, she heard a horse clopping behind her. She turned around, and a mist had formed. Soon a stagecoach emerged from it, being guided by two identical horses, mirror reflections of each other, with empty black orbs for eyes and hides covered in marks that made them resemble stone more than living flesh. They advanced until the stagecoach stopped in front of her, its door swinging open slowly while mist poured from it. And inside…nothing. Just some benches to sit on.

The whole thing stuck her as incredibly strange. First, it emerged from an impossible place, as a coach shouldn't have been able to get through the entrance of Hemwick Charnel Lane. She hadn't seen it when she walked in, either. Second, where was the driver? A stagecoach couldn't be guided without one. She had a lot of questions, but she put them aside for now. She needed to become an executioner, and though this was a bit sketchy she would have to face the chance of beasthood if she turned around, and it was more than likely that she would fall eventually. Her choice was clear.

"Take me to Castle Cainhurst, please," she said to the horses, who didn't respond. After a moment she awkwardly entered the coach, pulling out her Rifle Spear and pointing it at the door. It was never a bad idea to be prepared, and having a weapon at the ready would shorten her response time.

But where she was going? Yes, to the castle, but how? She could feel the stagecoach moving forward, but the only thing ahead of them was the broken bridge, and they should have hit the water by now if they were going that direction—but she wasn't falling. She tried to look out the windows, but they were boarded up to prevent them from being opened. She could tell as well that the jogging had stopped, but not the carriage. What was pulling the coach forward?

She removed one of her knives and started to cut away at the boards blocking the window. She had to know what was going on. She managed to cut a small hole, barely enough to see outside, and pressed her eye to it.

Some things are better left not described, some things impossible to describe. What the hunter saw was both. It was something she would never forget, and though she knew it was wrong, she couldn't put words to it. Only sensations. The only reason it didn't cause her to go insane or die was because she still didn't have the insight needed to truly see it all. If she did, she wouldn't have been able to handle it, the things she was seeing would destroy her brain at worst or cause her to lose her sanity at best.

She launched herself back to the opposite wall of the coach, panting in shock. What _was_ that? She immediately started looking for something to close the gap, and ended up cutting off a piece of her shirt and stuffing it into the hole. Outside…she simply couldn't describe it, and she didn't care to try and remember. She returned to the seat with her head in her hands, her breathing steadying right away (one of the benefits of being a hunter). With her weapon at the ready, she waited, trying to forget what she'd seen only moments ago.

* * *

When the door to the coach finally swung open, the first thing she felt was the cold. The place was covered in a sheet of snow. She stepped onto the ground, weapon in hand, and beheld in front of her a huge gate, surrounded by walls. She could see the castle through it, but how was she to get in? She was ready to walk around the wall, searching for a weak spot where she could enter, when she stumbled across a dead horse. She looked back at the stagecoach and saw it abandoned. The horses were lying dead and covered in snow, as if they'd been there for years. But how had the coach brought her there, then? There's no time for that, she chastised herself. She wouldn't find the answer standing there, anyway, and maybe after what she'd seen, she didn't want to.

She climbed the stairs until she came face-to-face with the huge gate. Surprisingly, she could hear the sound of chains rattling, and a moment later it started to open. She slipped through and picked up an abandoned lantern, lighting it to try and get her bearings. She was in a courtyard filled with statues that had a royal air about them. Ahead of her, it ended abruptly at the precipice of a valley, and she could see some sort of worm creatures on the other end. She knew those things. She had faced them below Iosefka's Clinics, and knew to stay away from them. To her left, the courtyard hugged the walls of the castle, and to her right was a locked elevator. She decided, since she couldn't use the elevator, to go left.

A lot of strange things were happening in this place. Not just the skinny four-legged monster with a blood belly; the architecture of the place was somehow wrong. It felt like it was made to be lower, and the trees looked like their roots were sunk too deep. Branches popped out of the ground, but they were too thick to be bushes. The fountain was raised, with steps leading up to it, but most importantly, the statues. They were representations of important Church members and saints. She could make out some of the names on the plaques below—Vicar Olivia, Researcher Sasha. If these people were all from the Healing Church, then why were they here? Some of the beasts were sucking the blood out of a corpse, one they had dug out from the half-frozen ground. She shivered. Was all the ground below her littered with corpses?

She started to dig a hole in the dirt with her spear—not as part of the hunt, but out of personal curiosity. It didn't take her long before she found a corpse dressed in worn but well-made clothes. She managed to extricate it, and it was just a man, nothing new or ordinary. Had he been a Vileblood? She'd expected something far worse, but the thing that made her stop was what was below him. More corpses. She saw hands, feet, heads, all crammed together. By the good blood, she was standing on a mountain of corpses. That was why this place felt wrong—they'd buried so many bodies that it had elevated the courtyard. She started to leave quickly, sickened. This must have been what Alfred means when he talked of exterminating the Vilebloods. The executioners must have killed hundreds to fill this courtyard, and the valley was probably the original height of the place. How many had been killed to create this mountain? And she swore that some of them were too tiny to belong to adults…

She made her way to the grand entrance as fast as she could, and found that the front door was open a bit, allowing her to enter. Who was opening the doors for her? First the gate, now this. Was she being guided? Maybe some of them were still alive, luring her into a trap. She readied her rifle spear and…nothing. Just a salon with stairs at the end connecting it to the other floors. The walls were covered in portraits and candles. The foyer, maybe? There were little beings there, too, cleaning the floor. She approached one of them, the height of a small child and scrubbing quickly. It was wearing the clothes of a servant, old and torn with time. It didn't seem aggressive, but she couldn't afford to let her guard down too much. "Hello. Could you point me to where Logarius is, please? He might have been the one who came in here and killed everyone—not that I'm his friend or anything, I just…I'll stop talking now."

The thing stopped scrubbing and turned its head. In a flash, it had pulled a cane from its rags and tried to hit her. She jumped back and shot, sending it flying, then closed the distance and shoved her spear into it. Just another beast, then. She continued to explore the salon, killing the servants as she found them, and eventually she happened upon a chest. She wondered whether there would be a new weapon inside, and opened it eagerly, gasping at its contents. Inside was the Reiterpallasch, the weapon that inspired the rifle spear she was holding. Inside the blade, a small gun was hidden, so she could deliver a quick parry, and it was beautiful, allowing for transformation with ease. The rifle spear was far cruder by comparison, as it didn't have the Reiterpallasch's complex mechanism.

As she was admiring her new weapon, she didn't notice the horde of blue figures, nearly transparent, that emerged in the salon, nor the fact that their necks were cut. They all held knives, and the females were dressed nobly, but she was too engaged with the weapon to notice. She only snapped out of her trance when they started attacking her en mass, cornering and killing her quickly even though she tried to heal herself. As her body dissolved, the figures returned to their places and began to weep. Some servants descended from the second floor and started to scrub at the blood she'd left behind by her death.

She was killed by ghosts—ghosts she hadn't even noticed. Grotesque beasts, fallen hunters and crazy old women, fine, but ghosts? She couldn't call them beasts because beasts carried blood, and ghosts carried…dead blood, perhaps? And how would she hit a ghost? What if she ended up cursed? But she would need the hand of a dead one, a cursed one. Or cursed weapons. The soul of a….

She was getting off track. She'd managed to hit some of the ghosts before she died, so there would be no reason for her to get cursed. She could kill them. All she had to do was cross the corpse mountain again.

* * *

She cleared the entire salon and explored the stairs to both side, and now the only thing left was an entrance to another salon. This one looked more like a dining room, with two large tables that were covered in tarnished silverware, where ghosts sat. She was able to catch them unaware, and proceeded to slay them all, charging them with her transformed rifle spear and shooting after she hit the target—a deadly combination to slower enemies like ghosts. Of course, she didn't only have the rifle spear, but the threaded cane in her cloak as well as a backup weapon in case something happened. A prepared hunter always had a backup weapon, according to Gehrman, and another pistol in case the rifle stopped working. If it did, she would have to use something else to parry.

Once the place was empty and she had a moment to look around, she saw there were portraits covering the walls. Probably of the Vilebloods that lived there, and they were quite surprisingly beautiful. She had been expecting something a lot more grotesque, images of killing or sucking the blood from hunters. But they were all posed portraits, deceptively normal, no fangs or anything like that. They looked…human. Snobbish, but human. She knew that some beasts looked like humans but were as vicious as any that didn't, but this was really something else.

If Alfred claimed that the Vileblood were monsters that killed without remorse and sucked the lives out of others, what about the Executioners? There was a giant mountain of corpses outside the castle and some of them belonged to children, servants, individuals who were not Vileblood but had been treated like they were. How many of these innocents had been killed by the Executioners when they took this place? If the Executioners were so merciless and bloodthirsty, just as they claimed the Vileblood were, what was the difference? The Church? One followed the Church's rules and the other didn't? But what difference would that make? The church wasn't a good institution. They'd burned Old Yharnam and closed themselves off from the rest of the city. Most importantly, she remembered the crow woman telling her about the Albin and how Alfred had killed them all. They were odd, and had a lot of money, but did that justify their slaughter? According to Alfred, yes. The Church was never wrong, even in the face of the truth. But they could become beasts. Look at the Vicar she had faced, and the cleric beasts. What else had they lied about?

This didn't seem as black and white as she thought. It was more a struggle for power than anything else. Maybe the Vilebloods had something the Church wanted, so they created a group to wipe them out. It made sense, but it also complicated her decision to become an executioner. Of course, she didn't want to be a slave to her desire for blood any longer, but to trade that in and become a slave for a killing institution didn't sound so good….No matter, though. She still need to find Logarius. Maybe talking to him would give her more information. According to the crow woman, he'd been against the massacre of the Albin. He might not be such a fanatic about the Church. But where to find him? Alfred had said he was still trapping the undead queen, so if she found the queen, she'd find Logarius. A decent plan—but where _was_ she? Her mother always said to look in the library if she had a question. Well, it was a start anyway. She started to wander down the corridors at random, hoping to stumble across it. "Of course….I just have to search in a castle full of things that want to kill me…."

But somehow, she had a sensation. It was almost like she knew where everything was, and it all looked so familiar. Perhaps it was because she had absorbed some of the blood memories of Laurence, head of the Grand Cathedral. She saw some strange discussions, the betrayal of Laurence to some Master Willem. She pushed that thought to the back of her head. Better get going, see where her gut would take her. She sighed, anxious but knowing it was better than nothing. As she left the salon she was greeted by a wave of cold. However, her cheeks didn't redden, and she didn't quite feel it, though her breath fogged in front of her. In spite of that odd sensation, she had to admit the view was beautiful. She was on top of a wall now, maybe connecting to another part of the castle, and she could see Yharnam from here…. _Stop. Focus._

She faced a decision now. Climb a small set of stairs to the right, or pass through a bottleneck of statues? The latter seemed too much like a trap, so she mounted the stairs. She was starting to get a bit disappointed, but she was distracted by something coming in her direction. It looked like a bat, but somehow human, with the arms forming wings, and a bear-like grey face. It landed in front of her, in an odd place that formed a circle of statues, a free fall to her right. She readied her rifle spear and her pistol. She'd never seen a beast like this before, so she didn't know what to expect, but she jumped closer and shot. It took the damage without flinching, and the bullet didn't penetrate at all. It slashed at her with its claw and she jumped back, retaliating with her spear. This time it sliced through the flesh easily. As she was preparing another attack, it slashed at her, and she immediately attacked back, sending it to the ground. She jumped closer and impaled its heart, and it spasmed for a moment before it fell still, and she felt the blood enter her. Not so difficult, but its appearance was a little worrying. Its color blended in with the walls, so she'd have to be attentive. In front of her was a passage that led to the interior of the castle, which she saw as a chance to get more goods and maybe another weapon. She headed right without hesitation.

More of the grey things attacked her, but she didn't see any other beasts. The only things she found were stones to upgrade her weapons. There were more statues, forming a strange passage that looked almost like a bridge, and one of the servants stood in the middle. It wasn't scrubbing, though, but it held a rapier out, a duelist's stance, ready to strike. And strike it did, and she didn't manage to dodge it and was forced to take the hit. It continued its sequence, the rapier swishing past her so fast that she couldn't dodge. She managed to hit the release on her rifle spear, transforming it and shooting at the thing and sending it flying. Deadly, but small, and one more hit with her spear killed it. She couldn't underestimate the servants now. They were deadly, but very fragile. She continued to advance, and after a few more minutes, she found it.

The library was huge, and almost familiar. To the left was a chest and an elevator shaft, probably leading to the one that was grounded in the courtyard. When she was on her way to open it, she saw a book laying open on a table. A Vileblood register. She perused it as she waited for the elevator to rattle up to her. There was a huge list of names inside, written in red, with their status in the middle column, where they were all marked as dead. How had the book even been written, then? She kept flipping through it, but every single name was marked dead, right until the end. If they were all gone, who had written this down? Not the ghosts or the grey things. Maybe the servants? But something strange was happening. As she held the book open, her thumbs on the page, the names began to turn around her finger. She placed her fingertips in the middle of the page and the same thing happened. By the good blood, the thing was _alive_. She continued to test it, and every time the words dodged her hands. That was how these things had been written. The book somehow knew about the deaths. But how?

Before she could figure it out, the elevator arrived, and she exited in the courtyard and returned to the dream. She had a fair amount of blood echoes beating away in her chest, and the sooner she got rid of them, the better. She was lucky, she thought, that this place didn't have good blood. Ghosts didn't bleed, but the servants did, and the grey things, though their blood was old and without taste. If all the beasts were like that, she thought wistfully, she wouldn't have a chance of beasthood. She sighed as she returned to the dream.

* * *

She'd finally cleaned the library and opened the secret passage. It had taken some serious work, killing ghosts every step of the way and dodging servants that shot small darts at her in the dark, ones that attracted ghosts. She found a gun, though, a very beautiful one. Evelyn, such a work of art in aesthetic and functionality that it almost felt as though it were alive. She could finally see the ladder hidden behind a moving bookcase, activated by a lever. She walked outside the library to a small parapet, one that she wouldn't have even known about if she hadn't walked through a broken window. She was finally arriving on the third floor, and after that, the queen, and she had a feeling where she was.

She cleared the third floor, finding only some stones to upgrade her weapons, and climbed the final flight of stairs to the roof. It consisted of two parts, the vast plane that she was on and a small one below that. She had to jump from section to section to make her way across, admiring the majestic view as she went, until she found herself in front of a portal, and at the end of it, someone in a chair. Master Logarius. She came closer, and saw that he carried a crudely made scythe in one of his hands. He looked like a dry corpse, but he was moving, his arms and legs like breaking bones, and eventually stood up with the scythe in his hand.

"Hello," she said timidly. "I'm a hunter, and I wish to be an executioner…." It made no indication that it had understood her, but instead advanced against her, wielding the scythe. She started to attack with the rifle spear, but when she finished her attack she saw a large red skull descending. She darted back, but the thing followed her, slashing and making the skull scrape against her. She was hit. He moved the scythe strangely, all she could see was a skull and…she was back in the dream. Okay dodge the strange movement with the scythe and avoid skull now she would only have to get all over there again….

It took a while, but she'd finally managed to bring him closer to death. He tried another one of his odd moves, sending several small skulls swarming around her which she'd gotten accustomed to dodging. One of the larger ones imploded in front of him, and she took the opportunity to attack, slashing against him until at last he bled. He pulled a rusty blade from his clothes and stuck it in the ground, clenching it in both his hands. She could tell something new was happening, and she tried to stop him, but a huge explosion threw her back. She got up quickly and injected some blood vials to heal her. He was surrounded by a red glow, and instead of keeping his distance as he had before he advanced on her, attacking with his scythe. She dodged and jabbed him with the spear a couple times before he advanced again, this time using the sword. She dodged and tried to jump at him, but the echoes of a small explosion caused by his blade slashing the air pushed her back. He wasted no time in attacking her again, and she only managed to inject one blood vial before he switched back to the scythes. One of his attacks dragged a line in the dirt in front of him, and he switched weapons as soon as she got used to his attacks. She dodged as fast as she could, but one of his last attacks hit her, and he jumped, landing an incredible distance away, preparing for a slash. He returned at high speed, and she tried to parry but the timing was off. The slash left a huge cut on her stomach, and though she managed to get up, she was starting to smell something… _she could only taste small traces of its blood, and it was so delicious. Imagine what it would be like if he died, it's getting even better, she wanted more, more, more…._

He stuck his sword on the ground, and out from it other smaller blades emerged, swarming her in the same way the skulls had. She evaded them until she could get clear of the larger blade. Maybe if she destroyed it, it would stop sending them? Would it rain his power? She could see the beast looking at her, approaching for another attack, and she jumped backwards, responding every time she found an opening. _Yes, she could feel more of this amazing blood, only in pieces, but soon she would get more and the smell was getting sweeter by the second…._

He tried a slash, but she dodged and parried with her rifle. She hit him again and again, trying to regain her health. He began a sequence of attacks with the sword and she took them as best she could, waiting for the right moment to shoot. Now. She shot, making him fall to his knees, then jumped closer and stuck her hands in his belly, grabbing and twisting. _The blood, the feeling of the wound was so good, it healed her completely and the smell was even better, how could something already so perfect become better?_

He got up before she could attack him and launched himself away, preparing for another huge attack. This time, she would give him a gift. She smiled, stretching her face, and prepared her rifle spear with a simple push to the mechanism. When it hit something, it would contract and shoot. The beasts started to get closer, and she aimed her spear and threw. The velocity he was approaching at made it impossible for him to dodge, and doubled the impact. It hit him straight in the chest, entering his aged flesh, and the mechanism contracted and shot inside him, making him lose control. He went crashing into one of the pillars. _Yes, yes, the blood she had spilled was wondrous, now he just needed to die…the smell was so divine, but she could make it even better._ She removed her threaded cane off her back and approached it, but when she tried to hit him she was forced back by a slash of his scythe. Somehow the thing had survived, even with blood spurting from the hole the rifle spear had made in his chest. Not a problem for her, though. _More fighting, more of that smell, more blood, more, more, more…._

He attempted an upward slash with the sword, but she dodged and attacked him with the cane. _The smell was too good, too good for her to want to stop_ —but the explosion of the sword made her stumble and she was forced to dodge his next attack to inject a blood vial. _MORE BLOOD._ She jumped closer to him, delivering more attacks, and transforming her cane into a whip to get _more of this delicious blood_. She started to dodge and attack with only the whip. It wasn't as effective, but it provided her more safety and more _blood_. He got closer to her, but she simply transformed the cane back and delivered a strong thrust. It didn't stop his swords, but she managed to dodge most of them, and heal the wounds when she couldn't. _MORE BLOOD._ He didn't die, despite the spear sticking out of his chest and all the attacks she had delivered and _she wanted to end him, taste the blood, but continuing the fight meant more of this heavenly smell._

He moved closer, preparing an attack with the scythe, and she tried to parry but failed, resorting to more hits with the cane to recapture some of the health he'd stolen. When he attacked with his sword, she parried successfully, and she performed a visceral attack, causing a shower of blood to erupt, and he fell to the ground—back on the roof. _The marvelous aroma emitted from the wound, it was time to end this._ She jumped closer and grabbed the spear, shooting into his chest and twisting it, destroying his insides. _YES, YES, DIE, DIE, GIVE ME YOUR BLOOD._ With its dying breath it conjured an explosive skull in front of her and sent her flying backwards. She collapsed.

Perhaps the euphoria of the hunt had caused it, or something inside of her had been fighting the whole time to retake control, but in the end she blacked out. The beast tried to get up, but fell to the ground again. The damage was too great. That was how Logarius, master of the executioners, died, bleeding on the ground with a spear in his belly.

* * *

She woke on the roof. She could feel the sheer amount of blood pouring into her, delicious blood, and she realized with a sickening feeling that she must have lost control again. The memories were fuzzy, but she knew what had happened. She had lost control, and only the wounds that made her black out had stopped her from succumbing to beasthood. She approached the body of the now-dead Logarius. He wore a strange crown, which she lifted off his head and placed on her own, though she didn't quite know why. Suddenly a huge building appeared inside of her. This must have been where he trapped the queen, she realized, and she entered it.

The thing was huge, with a giant staircase flanked with statues, and she was all the way at the top when she saw her. The undead Queen. Her hair was pale, and her face covered by a helmet. She sat on a throne, and though she had never seen her before, the hunter knew that it could only be the Queen of the Vilebloods. She looked around as she approached the throne and saw a Cainhurst summons on the table. She could deliver it to Alfred, and he could kill the Queen and turn her into an executioner. But did she really want to be a slave of the Church? They were no better than the ones they killed…

The helmeted head of the queen turned in her direction as the hunter approached. "Kneel, visitor. Here is our throne; show your respect." When she knelt in the center of a strange tapestry, the Queen continued. "You are young. Still a child. But you are a hunter, so that makes you a woman. What do you seek?"

The hunter inhaled deeply and began. "For something to escape the chance of falling to beasthood. A way to continue the hunt."

"Do you desire to be free of the temptation? That is impossible. No blood can provide you that, not the Church's nor my own." The hunter's shoulders drooped, but the Queen continued. "But I can offer you a way. Serve me. My blood and rune will make you immune to beasthood, but you will need to deliver blood to me to sate your temptation. It will only grow as time passes, but no longer will it be as prominent as you fight. Is that what you desire, Hunter?"

"Yes," she answered without hesitation. The Queen held her hands out in front of her and cut her wrists.

"Then come, and drink this corrupted blood."

The hunter pressed her mouth to the wounds. It tasted…odd, not sweet like the other blood but with a distinct taste of salt and rust, a feeling that spread throughout her body. "Feel the corruption spread in your flesh," the Queen said. "Now you are a Vileblood."

 **I prefer reviews then favorites or follows because in reviews i now what do you think of the story beyond i like it so please review**

 **Update in** **12/20/2016 or 20** **/12/2016**

 **у** **дачи**


	7. Chapter 7

**Beta by Bellum Gerere**

 **Some questions has been popping in the reviews and i believe that i should answer. If the story will go to the DLC or to Remnant again the answer is... i don't know... You see i am only one chapter ahead of any of you, i know the script for chapter 8 but not for chapter 9 or 10 so i really cannot answer this questions, until now nothing was planned about the DLC but if the story progress and made sense for the story i will and the same thing with Remnant.**

She nearly shrieked in frustration when she realized she'd gone to the wrong place. She was supposed to be in the forbidden woods, not at the Odeon Chapel lamp. Now she would have to return to the dream, and she'd already wasted so much time….

The chapel was a bit crowded compared to how it had been before. Three people, not counting the dweller. The old woman seated in a chair by the left entrance, an angry man at the end next to a statue of a saint, and another seated woman—but this one was different. Instead of a traditional vest, she wore a long red dress with beige accents, and some marks on her face that made her face more pronounced. Blonde hair covered her scalp. More importantly, she seemed to have noticed the hunter looking at her. "Do you see something you like, Miss Hunter?" she drawled in an almost sultry voice.

"Oh," she stuttered. "You know…it's just that your clothes are different—not that that's bad, or anything, and you—you have something on your face….that's not a problem either…."

The woman laughed. "How refreshing. And here I thought that when you became a hunter you turned into a grump. It appears I've found the exception. As for your question, my dear, my clothes befit my condition."

"What condition? Are you infected?" The hunter put the muzzle lock of her weapon back. If this woman was a threat to others, she would be eliminated without thought.

She seemed to notice, but continued casually. "A bit jumpy, aren't you, my dear? All your kind are, I've noticed. My condition is that I am a woman of the night, nothing more."

"What is that? Is that the name of a beast? A disease?"

The woman threw back her head and laughed in disbelief. "My, my, you really are a young one. It means a whore, darling, and I think you know what that is, right?" The hunter's posture deflated. She wasn't a threat, she was just another being she didn't understand.

"Why? There must be better things to do, right?"

The woman smiled sadly. "What other things? Work in a factory until I wither and die? Sell my blood to the church? I don't like what I do, or take any pleasure from it, but in comparison to what I could be doing, it's better than the rest. I put food on the table. Of course, there are those who look down on me." It didn't escape the hunter's notice that her eyes flicked towards the angry man. "But I survive."

The hunter felt her cheeks redden. Why had she asked that? She was in no position to. The woman noticed. "Don't feel like that. You saved Arianna. I am in your debt, and I don't like being in debt. If you want some sort of reward…I haven't been with many women, but I could make an exception for you."

The hunter's eyes nearly bugged out of her face. "What? No, of course not!"

The woman was laughing as she continued. "It would not be the first time I was with your kind. You hunters always have high stamina. Always takes time."

By this point her face was blood red. "Do you have anything else you can offer? Not that you're bad, it's just…" The woman stopped laughing at the embarrassed look on her face.

"Of course. I can offer my blood to you. I know your kind will have use for it, if you have no problem receiving a woman like me."

"Yes, that would be good," she said, internally sighing in relief. "It will help me in the hunt. I normally prefer the blood of beasts, but don't think I am comparing you to one."

Arianna plunged a syringe into her arm, drawing her blood out and handing the vial to the hunter. "I know, dear. Now, take my blood, and may the good blood guide you." The hunter inclined her head as she left the chapel, preparing to return to the dream so she could get to the forbidden forest.

"Hunter," the chapel dweller called. "Come here if you can, hee hee hee." The hunter approached cautiously. "I see you've brought a lot of people here. Thank you, hee hee hee. Now I can finally help some people; yes, I will help them so much, hee hee hee." Part of her knew she should just kill him right then and there. There was no way something like him wasn't a killer. His posture was disturbing and he spoke like a murderer—but he had done nothing until now, and she left it for a last resort. "And another hunter passed through here again. The one that looks like a crow. She is outside again. Maybe she's returned to her nest, hee hee hee. You know what they say: double the hunters, double the problems," he cackled. So the crow woman was here again. She should talk to her, she supposed. Maybe she could be of help.

As she tried to leave, the old woman started yelling at her. Had she really brought her chair this whole way? "What are you looking at? Do you think I owe you something?" She simply kept walking. "Look at me while I'm talking to you, hunter." She stopped and glanced at the woman. "This is a nice place you've found me, nice refuge from the hunt."

Something nice. She was about to say something kind in return when the woman continued. "A hunt that your kind created. You hunters started this bloody mess instead of doing your jobs, just running around being good-for-nothings." She should have known it was too good to be true, she thought as she left, the woman still shouting behind her.

When she left the chapel, the crow woman was standing in the same place as before. She started speaking before the hunter had even approached her, not looking up. "I see that you've found what you're looking for. I believe Logarius has finally become a martyr, am I right?"

"How did you know that?"

The woman looked at her in a way that made her feel utterly insignificant. "Simple, hunter, or should I call you Vileblood?" She felt her face redden as she met the woman's gaze. "Your weapons. The rapier found only at Cainhurst. The Chickage, used only by the Royal Guard of the Vileblood and nearly impossible to obtain without becoming one. And to become one of the Royal Guard…well, you must have done something very important for the queen. Like freeing her, perhaps?" By the gods, everything she'd said was true—and, she realized, the fact that she was a Vileblood might make the crow woman her enemy. She trembled at the thought. She would have no chance now.

The woman had noticed her change of posture. "Are you scared, Vileblood? That I will hunt you? I won't. There are no sane hunters left besides me, Alfred—but he will surely go insane. You, as a Vileblood, cannot hurt anyone that would make me want to hunt you. But you're of more use alive than dead." She sighed, relieved. "Did you know how I figured out you were a new hunter? It wasn't because you helped that woman. No new hunter has appeared in the last ten years."

"How is that even possible?"

"I don't know. Every time they tried to give someone the transfusion they would die."

"But how did you manage to hold the city during the hunt?"

The crow woman stared at her, eyes glassy. "We didn't. Every hunt, we lost more and more ground. The burning of Old Yharnam was a result of our forced being stretched thin, and we couldn't control the beasts that were wandering around in broad daylight. We had to burn it to save the rest of the city."

"Did you let any hunters there to…protect the beasts?"

"No, of course not. Why would they protect the beasts? Unless…tell me, did they use a machine gun against you?"

"Yes. There was one at the top of a tower with the gun and another at the bottom."

The woman laughed. "So he survived all these years. That is quite a discovery."

"Who survived?" the hunter asked, tilting her head to the side.

"An old hunter named Djura. He was the master of the Powder Keg Workshop when we finally burned the place down and managed to seal it. One group of hunters disappeared during the retreat—all of the ones from the Powder Keg. Later some rumors popped up that they were still there, defending Old Yharnam from other hunters."

"That doesn't make sense. Why would they protect the beasts?"

"I don't know," the crow woman sighed. "Some say they grew tired of the killing. Others say they had become beasts themselves, or even that they were consorting with them. Who really knows?"

So there were hunters that protected beasts instead of hunting. Odd. "Why don't you go hunt them? Because they're not hurting anyone since it's sealed off?"

She took a long time to answer. "Taking them out would be incredibly difficult, and not worth the danger. They are isolated and don't care about the rest of the city. Besides, there is someone more important to be hunted tonight…which brings me to the reason I'm here. I have something to ask of you, Vileblood. Could you track another of your group for me?"

"I can't. And that would be useless anyway. I'm the only Vileblood."

The woman looked at her for a long time, then back to the city. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I found a book at Castle Cainhurst, a sort of registry of Vilebloods. Everyone in it was listed as dead."

The crow woman tilted her head and whispered, and though the hunter didn't catch all of it, she thought she could hear "yes, I see an imposter, but how he managed to get…that changes nothing…." Strange, but she wasn't going to question it at the moment.

"Why did you wish to talk to me? You didn't come to tell me about the past for no reason."

"By understanding the past you comprehend the future. Continue the hunt."

"What? What do you mean by that?" The woman started to walk away.

"I still have hope," she said. "And remember, if Alfred kills you, you will not resurrect again." And with that, she was gone. Why did everyone she came across have to be so cryptic? Sighing, she returned to the Chapel, to make her way to the Dream. She had to continue the hunt.

Being a Vileblood was strange. She could still feel the sensation of absorbing the beasts' blood as she killed them, the same sense of euphoria, the same taste, but she was getting better at identifying the small things in the blood that made them different from each other. It tasted better, as well, and the thrill of the hunt had increased now that she no longer feared falling to beasthood. Her state existed like a barrier, one that allowed her to feel the thrill but not the fear. Instead there was a thirst, a thirst that grew with every kill. It was a valid exchange to rid herself of the possibility of falling, she thought, not to mention the excellent weapons she'd gained access to. The Reiterpallasch and the Chikage were marvelous, especially for quick attacks, as she was doing then. She pulled the Chickage from the corpse of a beast who had been giving her some trouble with a cannon. It had more or less turned the middle of the village into a death zone, forcing her to dodge from house to house in order to avoid the blasts. The blade had cut cleanly through its middle until it got stuck, but with a little push, it was out.

It was a strange weapon. Any blood that spilled on her was absorbed not by her, but by the blade. It only stayed when she used it in its transformed mode, when the blood coated the weapon to deal more damage. It depleted her own store of blood to do this, however, and until then she hadn't felt like she had to use it. She hoped she didn't have to again. The sensation was strange, and she didn't like the feeling of being drained.

She faced a mill now, with a parapet above the door and a person there to check on. It was quite dark, so she prepared her hand lantern and attached it to her belt, giving her a bit of light. It was silent as well, until she heard footsteps around her. She extinguished the lantern, and after waiting for a bit she was rewarded with the sight of a beast walking with strange slow steps, almost as if it were resisting something. It carried an ax and a torch. As it started to climb the stairs, she followed silently, preparing a backstab with the Chickage when it turned around. She released the attack, and it flew like an arrow through the beast's chest, but instead of crumbling and dying a hundred tiny snakes exploded from its head, and she jumped back. It continued to approach, heedless of the blade in its chest, and she threw a Molotov cocktail at it. When the flames reached the snakes, they started to move erratically. That was the distraction she needed, and she jumped closer and finished it off with the Reiterpallasch, cutting off some of the snake's heads as she did so. After it had collapsed, she put the weapon away on her back and retrieved the Chickage. She'd have to remember to take care of these kinds of beasts that way, and find out if the snakes were poisonous in case she needed to carry more antidote.

She continued to explore the mill, dispatching more of these beasts until she found a passage that led to higher ground. When she exited, she saw a man kneeling with his back exposed to her. "Hello," she said, approaching cautiously. The man turned to her. Something covered his eyes, and he wore trousers, but nothing else, and behind him was a massacre—she couldn't even count the corpses.

"Oh, you scared me! Don't do that to me. I thought you were a monster!"

"No, I'm only a hunter, and you?"

"Oh, a hunter! Thank the stars! I am just a simple beggar, running from the monster that took these poor people behind me." The situation seemed fishy to her.

"Why were you kneeling next to the corpses?"

He scratched his head. "You know, I am just a poor beggar, and seeing the dead…they don't need their things anymore, but I do, and I was just helping myself…." The whole thing seemed off. Where would he put anything that he took? He didn't have any sort of bag—but that didn't matter. She need to continue and helping people was not a hunter job. He was only a civilian sacking the dead. Not exactly in her jurisdiction.

"Of course. I understand. I'll be on my way now."

"Wait!" he cried. "As a hunter, you probably know a lot of safe havens. Would you be able to direct me to one? Being out in the open is too dangerous for me."

"Yes, of course. There's one at Odeon Chapel." Done. She had acknowledged what Gehrman told her—only indicate the way. The rest they could do themselves. It had worked for the people in the chapel. As the hunter left the parapet, the beggar smiled. A smile that was too big, with teeth too sharp for an ordinary man.

It took her quite a bit of time and some tough enemies—odd ones, like the Shadows of Yharnam—to get to Byrgenwerth. According to Gehrman, they were legends that patrolled the forest and killed the beasts inside to protect the school. The myths said they were hunters that had died in the service of Byrgenwerth and the school had allowed them to keep protecting it via a ritual. There wasn't much truth to this, however. There were a lot of beasts in the forest, and she was fairly certain scholars wouldn't know how to fight with katanas and swords, or conjure snakes and spit fire.

Where to start, she wondered? First she needed to enter the place, but it wouldn't be so easy since the front gate was closed. She would have to walk around and hope to find a gap in the wall. But as she turned she saw a bug-like thing running in her direction. It looked as if it were wearing ragged clothes that had been stretched by its grotesque body, and it looked like a fly with wings and a large number of sickly green eyes. When it got closer, it jumped and dove in her direction. She rolled to the right and escaped its grab, which made it vulnerable, and then she simply stuck the Reiterpallasch in its head and pressed the transformation mechanism, and the beast's head exploded. IT appeared that the school of Byrgenwerth had fallen to the beast plague as well—a different type of beast, but still beasts. Now she would be lucky to find someone alive and sane inside, so she could ask them how to get Paleblood. It would take some time.

Eventually she was able to open the gate to the main door, after killing more bug beasts and a giant… _thing_. The door was so heavy that she needed both hands just to open it. Byrgenwerth wasn't how she expected it to be, a few benches with some instruments on top and a staircase that looped around the room with a trapdoor below. There were some cages as well, but small—for birds, probably. She had expected more. This was too normal. All of the stories she heard made it seem like a place of discovery and wonder, of monstrosities, so when she'd arrived she expected something marvelous. This was…for lack of a better word, not. Nothing supernatural, no abominations, just another place. It crawled with strong beasts due to its experiments.

The first floor was empty, and the trapdoor was locked when she tried to open it. She climbed the stairs instead, and was faced with a giant door and a small room to her right with a couch, and more importantly, enemies. It wore a strange set of clothing—a white cloth with some dark clothes beneath, and a blindfold covering its eyes. It started to advance in her direction, with a threaded cane in one hand and a flame sprayer in the other. An enemy was an enemy and she would deal with it as such, but for some reason she felt angry. The beast jumped at her, trying to attack with the cane but she rolled backwards and slashed at it with the Chickage. It stumbled, and she attacked one after another, making the white vest red. It recovered by jumping backwards and spraying with the flame sprayer—but it didn't spray flames, it sprayed a fine mist that burned when it touched her. She jumped back down the stairs to escape it and it followed her, so she picked up Evelyn and started to shoot at him. He stopped, setting the cane into whip mode.

It began a combination of attacks that she took as well as she could, ascending the stairs and slashing at him to recover the health she'd lost while she suffered his attacks. The thirst had grown at a stunning rate. Before, it had been subtle, but now it felt as if she had sand in her mouth. What could sate it? She cut the beast and felt its blood, and helped a little, but it made the taste even better, and she needed so much _more._

The beast hit her with its cane, forcing her to retreat, and it followed with a hit to her cane. She blindly swung the Chikage, making it retreat, but it did a jump attack and sent her down the stairs. She hit the ground and tried to get back up but it hit her with its whip and she fell again. It jumped, trying to impale her with the cane, but with great difficulty she rolled to the side and when it tried to attack again, she shot with Evelyn. It stumbled, and she managed a parry before she performed a visceral attack. His blood was so sweet, so refreshing, and when she pushed it flowed but didn't sate her. It only made her thirstier.

The beast fell to the ground, its clothes red with sweet blood, and she used that moment to inject a blood vial to repair some of the damage. It recovered and put its hands on its clothes and picked something. She'd seen this behavior before, the beast always did it before a large attack and it was fairly vulnerable right now. She jumped closed and put the Chickage in its sheath, releasing it in a powerful attack. She could feel the blade draining her. The beast took it but still continued and she managed to attack again before she jumped back. A sphere of light had formed around the beast's hand, and then it exploded in beams that sought her out. She started to run, knowing they would kill her if they hit her. All around her destruction was raining down, and it was hard for her to tell what was happening. She tried to hide as best she could, but she could feel the thing she had dove behind melting. A bench. These things were able to melt through metal.

She got up and saw the destruction—the room was in tatters, and some things were on fire. Thank the good blood she'd been able to dodge the attack, she surely would have died if she hadn't. The beast was advancing in her direction, and she prepared the Chikage again. She couldn't allow another one of these attacks, since she'd dodged almost out of pure luck. She needed to end him quickly, and to sate the thirst that had grown so large.

This time he tried a jump attack with the whip; she dodged to the side, still charging with the Chikage. It started spraying and it burned her. She clenched her teeth at the pain and released the transformed version of her weapon. Since it had been accumulating in the sheath, the attack would be even stronger. It flew out like thunder, the blade covered in blood, and cut through the beast until it stopped in the middle of its body. She felt the blood entering her, sweet and refreshing, but still not sating her thirst. She injected a blood vial to make up for what the weapon had taken.

Now the beast was confused, looking at its chest and missing arm as if it couldn't believe what had happened. Before it could try anything else, she lunged at it with the Reiterpallasch, hitting it right in the heart. She approached it, practically hugging it so she could get closer to it and feel the blood emerging from the wounds. She wanted more. She removed Evelyn and put it to the beast's temple, shooting. The blood covered her clothes and her face, and she could feel the sensation of it in her skin, marvelous and sating. She let the corpse fall to the ground only when the last of it had gone into her.

The sensation was wonderful, all she wanted and more—but what had she done? She'd shot and embraced a beast just to feel more of the blood. It was almost as if she was falling to beasthood, but instead of fighting it, she accepted it. There was no problem with that, was there? Just a bit of fun without the risk of beasthood. The beast inside her was dead and the sensation was so good, but the thirst was still present and uncomfortable. When she returned to the dream, she would talk to Annalise about it. She noticed there was still blood on the body as she removed the Chikage, but where was it? She passed her hand through the body, through the chest until she found it, digging into its abdomen with a knife until she unearthed a ball of blood with little things dancing around it. She put her hands out and it moved until it was inside her hand. She stood up slowly, looking at it. What was it? She had never sensed blood like this before, or seen anything like this. Maybe she would have to ask Annalise? But how would she guard it in the meantime?

She was so caught up in her curiosity that she didn't even notice it entering her body. She didn't feel any different, and it was almost like nothing had happened. She would go ask, but only after finding out what Paleblood was and how to obtain it. She would have answers first, now that she was so close, then she would return to Cainhurst to have a talk with Annalise.

She had proceeded to the stairs when she saw the messengers appear, probably with something for her. She crouched down and saw that they were carrying a key. "Thanks," she said, and they danced and clapped as they dissolved. What would the key work in? There wasn't a keyhole in the trapdoor, but maybe upstairs? As she mounted the stairs she stepped on something strange, almost squishy. An eye. A human eye. She looked around and saw a lot of them scattered on the ground—some so large they could only belong to massive beasts, some the size of a nail. Where had they come from? She saw them then, full of the eyes, one of them broken by the beams of light. It was a bit strange, but after the stories she had heard she wasn't very surprised by it. They were probably used for some ritual or scientific research. If she managed to find anyone alive, she would ask, or there was always Gehrman when she returned to the dream. She ascended the stairs and tried the key on the giant set of doors at the top. They swung open without a problem. She pushed them open and then….

Nothing. She was on a balcony, with nothing around but a man, seated in a chair facing the lake. She moved forward hesitantly, until she could tell it was a man and not a beast. The same man she'd seen in the vision—Master Willem, leader of Byrgenwerth. He wore she same clothes she'd seen, and carried the same staff, and she hadn't expected to meet him at all. She tried to call his name, and he looked at her for a moment. She could swear she saw recognition in his eyes, and he tried to speak for some time before his hoarse throat managed to produce something sounding vaguely like words. "Rom….knowlo….freedom…..hunter….tool…." He stopped and pointed at the lake with the staff. Perhaps there was a tool at the end of the balcony? She saw a parapet below and climbed down to it, but there was nothing, just the bright moon. She could almost feel it, it was so close, and she reached out to touch it. It took some time for her to notice she was falling in the direction of the water….

Finally, after what felt an eternity, she was in the queen's chambers for some answers. She moved towards the throne towards Annalise, who said "Bow and show respect for your queen." The hunter bowed. "Speak, bearer of our blood. What do you wish?"

The hunter took a deep breath. ''I wish to know more about what we are, and some of the things that I felt today.''

"As any child, you accepted my vassalage without acknowledging what would change for you. You are a woman because you are a hunter, but still a child by the blood."

The hunter tried to relax. "What are Vilebloods?" she asked. "What is our purpose?"

"As a member of our noble family, you are entitled to know our graceful history. We are a noble house that dates centuries before the construction of Yharnam, and we are in fact responsible for its existence. It was built as a village for our servants that soon began to grow, by the grace of the gods. It was a way for commerce—"

"I'm sorry to interrupt," the hunter said, unable to shake the feeling that something was missing. The transfusions. "What about the blood clinics, and all of that?"

The queen spoke louder, clearly angry. "You don't interfere while your queen speaks, bearer of our blood." The hunter bowed her head, ashamed, and the queen continued.

"We didn't interfere with the city directly, but some of the lower branches decided to make money there by working in commerce." She spat the last word with disgust. "They lost the title of Vileblood when they chose this; only servants work with their hands while noble use them for appreciation of the arts."

"So what happened to them? I've never heard anything about them."

"They quickly took control of Yharnam, becoming the elite of the city," she laughed. "But in the end they were only bourgeois. How they have fallen…."

"So they became like the Albin that controlled the city before the church?"

"What did I say about interrupting me? Listen while your queen speaks! Yes, they were, but soon enough the church took all of them. It didn't matter to us. They were no longer nobles, and didn't deserve our condolences."

"And our purpose? What is it?"

The queen relaxed, and her hand moved to her stomach. "To make me conceive a child of the blood. The next heir of the Vileblood throne."

A child? But that wasn't how children were made. "How will you achieve this?"

She removed her hand. "By the bearer of our blood bringing me blood dregs."

"What are those?"

"It is the blood you can find in any human, but not beasts. They are too impure."

She was confused, but chose not to press the subject. She had more important questions that needed answering—about the thirst, and why she was experiencing it.

"I wish for answers about my condition."

"Condition? Don't talk about the blood you received like a disease. Show the proper respect."

She bowed her head, ashamed. "I'm sorry. I just feel strange since I've received it."

"Strange in what way, bearer of our blood?"

"A thirst I cannot sate with normal blood or the blood of beasts, and it only grows stronger." If the hunter had been paying attention, she would have seen the queen's posture relax.

"This is simply what being a Vileblood means. Instead of falling to the hunt, you fell to the thirst. It can only be sated by me. When you collect the blood of other beings, it will tide you over, but only the blood dregs can satiate it."

She wanted to sate this thirst, and feel the euphoria that she felt before. "Where can I find these blood dregs?"

She could swear that the queen was smiling. "In any humans, but the best are the ones that come from hunters, as their blood is…heavier. In fact, you have already collected one."

"I think you're mistaken…"

"Show me your hand, bearer of our blood."

"But—"

"Your queen orders you. Show me your hand.'' The hunter approached the throne and knelt, holding out her hand. The queen took it and placed her palm on it, and from it a ball of blood started to emerge, moving towards the queen's hand. It stopped and the queen released her hand to admire it. "Very good, and it came from our enemies of the Church. Revenge is such a good dish, even if it is a plate eaten cold." So that was what it had been. The queen looked back at the hunter. "Now it is time for your reward."

The ball of blood started to vanish from her hand as the queen cut her wrist and offered it to the hunter. The hunter started to drink, and this time the taste was different. The sensation was amazing, hundreds of different flavors passing through her as she drank, and the thirst was being reduced drastically. She didn't want it to stop, it was so marvelous, she just wanted to keep drinking and drinking and drinking—

Until the paradise was removed. The queen looked down at her. "So, bearer of our blood, did you enjoy your reward?" Of course it was the most sublime thing she had ever tasted. The sensation of falling to the hunt, the sweet smell…nothing compared to it.

"Yes. How do I get more?"

She could swear that the queen was smiling even wider behind her helmet. "By killing humans or for more, the beings of your kind. Bring me the blood dregs of a hunter and I will give you more." After that paradise she was sure that she'd received something more than that.

"The reward, it was more than the sensation?"

"Yes, bearer of our blood. I increased your power so you can bring me more." Now that she was stronger, maybe a visit to old Yharnam would do some people good. They could try to exit and kill other people for hunting beasts. They were a threat, and if the crow woman didn't want to intervene, then she would. Of course, she was only doing it to help the city and gain more power in the hunt.

She exited and moved towards the lamp. Yes, she would get more to Annalise. It would help the hunt, and provide her with more power to kill the beasts. Yes, that was why she doing it; for more power not for the other reward...

 **As classic, please review it, I reduced the rating of this story as you can see it**

 **Happy End Year Commemorations not the New Year's Eve this will be in the next update**

 **Update in 30/12/2016 or 12/30/2016**

 **удачи**


	8. The crow's journey

**This couple of days have been good, with the vacations i can finally focus in the important things of my lifee... recreate the Roman Empire in Europa Universalis 4 this is what separates men from children.**

 **Beta by Bellum Gerere**

Yharnam was an incredible place compared to other cities, with many things to boost their reputation. They had blood transfusions, the best military, a thriving economy and a center of peregrination for the sick and wounded that came to their city. Of course, Yharnamites thought themselves superior to inhabitants of any of the other cities, even the ones they called allies. One of the things they boasted of was how much freedom they had in comparison to the rest of the world. According to them, they had no government other than the benevolent church, who only recommended actions and did not enforce them. The entire city was open to walk, with no such things as forbidden districts, or any sort of transit control. The poorest could go to the richest districts without a problem; anyone was free to walk. During the night, of course, some places were off-limits unless you were a hunter, but what sort of idiot would walk around during the night of the hunt? This person surely needed to die by a beasts' hand, and must have been a pesky outsider. All this was clearly a symbol of superiority in comparison to the rest of the world. Free right to walk—what other city had that?

Though this was true, one would be discouraged towards doing that. The reason was simple—safety. To visit Byrgenwerth, for example, one would have to walk through the forbidden forest and would probably not come out alive. Even church officials who went with armed escorts and hunters did not always make it back. A lot of places were like that in Yharnam. You could go, but the chance was high that you would not come back, or it was somewhere that would be illogical for a normal person to go—Hemlock Channel Lane, for example. There was nothing there except a bunch of crazies and old hags, and the walk was fairly long, and if you didn't return by night, you would most likely die.

Still, there was one prohibited place, and most of the city pretended that it didn't exist—the Upper Cathedral Ward. Only the higher officials of the church could go there, and the only way to access it was through the church's hunter workshop, so to get there one would have to fight the entirety of the workshop. Furthermore, one would need a special key to open the door to the Ward. It was the most secluded and secure place in Yharnam. Of course, this went completely against the typical Yharnamite's notion of freedom. The church claimed it had no secrets and all her actions were for the good of the people, so why have this secure place? The questions needed asking, but they preferred not to talk about it and pretend it didn't exist. They were content with the explanation that an orphanage was there and the security was to protect the children. A flimsy explanation, but it was better than acknowledging the truth, that the church had a hidden place that no one had ever returned from. It was too loud to house only an orphanage, and sometimes people swore they heard screams coming from the buildings there. At least the orphanage excuse allowed them to sleep at night.

There did exist, however, another way to get to the Upper Cathedral Ward, a path that was hidden and had gone unused for a long time. But during this night, the worst of all, a strange fellow was walking up it—at night, during the hunt, no less. He was wearing strange and worn out garb, a cape made of crow feathers and a helmet that completely covered his head, letting only the ends of his white hair show.

Just a bit further and he would arrive. His torch illuminated the place, exactly the same as the last time he had been there. The smell was horrible, excrement mixed with rotten blood, common in the sewers of Yharnam. He turned left towards a passage that was supposed to be covered by a grid, but there wasn't one. It appeared after all this time, the never did maintenance on this place. Why would they? What choices did the children in the orphanage have? The same he had once—to stay, and get food and a place to stay for free, but with the knowledge that at any time he could be caught by the night and disappear. Or they could run back to the streets, and that was a death sentence for them. Yharnamites were not very generous to beggars, especially children, and the church was always patrolling the city to take them to the Upper Cathedral Ward for "rehabilitation."

He smiled dryly. In the orphanage, sometimes they could hear screams coming from the other houses, and they didn't always sound human. If they stayed on the streets, their biggest problem was the night, when the beasts prowled. Where to hide? Not in a chapel, where the church had officials at all times, and no Yharnamite would open his door to strangers, much less for children. So that was their only choice. Try their luck in the streets, somewhere they could disappear at any moment. That was why the other children had managed to open this path after years working on it. Things didn't change, though. No one tried to escape. It was better to live in constant fear with the promise of a bed and food than the cold streets, with the threat of beasts, always scared of the new and dangerous.

Finally, he reached the end of the passage, and tried the wooden door in front of him. It was locked, of course, and he took out a key, surprisingly also made of wood, from his pocket. He'd had to trade a week of dinner and five breakfasts for the thing, when the constructor of the passage was taken, they were the only one who had it. But not all was lost, they still had the mold. How they had managed to get it was a mystery, but thievery was not uncommon here. So he took it to the son of a carpenter, who was famed for making beautiful wooden sculptures, and asked him to make the key from the mold. The price was fairly high, as a member of his race was always greedy, and he'd probably noticed how important it was for him. He didn't like to suck up to his betters, but a chance at freedom was more than worth being hungry for a week.

He'd kept it with him all these years, as a keepsake, and now it would be put to use once again. He put the key in the lock, and it fit perfectly. After all this time, they didn't bother to change it. That bastard had charged a high price, but he admitted grudgingly that he did know how to work with wood. He was in one of the basements now, the one where they kept cleaning materials, and the place was exactly as he'd remembered it being when he escaped. The things were in different positions, but other than that it was exactly the same. He climbed the stairs to one of the orphanage's hallways, a large open space with windows that never opened and bare stone walls. A very dry place, for one that housed children. Some of them had painted the walls sometimes, but they were always cleaned the next day. They never explained why.

He looked out the window and the moon was red. It appeared it had begun. He had to find what he was looking for. He had access to the place, and the only way that he knew how to get there was through the roof of the orphanage. He walked in the direction of the stairs, the only noise his footsteps echoing through the room. He extinguished his torch and readied his repeating pistol. The blood moon gave him enough light to see by, and he was more comfortable carrying his pistol.

As he neared the stairs, another sound appeared. More footsteps ahead of him, the same ones as in his childhood. The so-called church servants had always scared him, and any action of theirs was enough to make him hide. They had but a porcelain mask for a face, and the movement of the lips had terrified him. As a child, they appeared to be giant dolls, and their clothes always gave this appearance as well, identical from their grey coats to the blue-black vests inside and the bells in their pockets.

He readied his Chickage. There were three of them, one carrying a lantern surrounded by eyes and the other two holding the canes they had used to discipline the children. How many times had he been hit by one for fighting the others? Too many to count. At least now he would have revenge. He moved towards the one carrying the lantern and slashed horizontally at its arm, following with a stock penetration right in the flesh of the heart. The one on the left tried to hit him with the cane, but he simply shot it with the pistol, sending it to the ground. The one on the right tried the same thing, and he jumped back and slashed at its neck. A moment later, its head fell to the ground.

The other started to get up, and as he did he put the Chickage in the sheath and held it there. When the servant got up, he released, slashing a large diagonal line across its body, following with another horizontal attack to release the blood. It fell to the ground dead, and he looked down at the corpses. He had expected something far more difficult from the monsters that had scared him as children. What amazed him the most was that they bled. He'd always thought them to be mechanical constructs, golems made of dead flesh as the other children had said, but now they only looked pathetic. Just another symbol of the church's weakness. In the blood moon, they revealed their true nature. Servants inside and out.

He continued toward the stairs, old and creaking wood that had always made it difficult to escape when he was young, because of how long it took to descend without making any noise. It was almost too enjoyable to walk on them without any concern. He was met with only another flight of stairs when he reached the top, but they were blocked by a metal door, which was new. He could try and find another key, or access the third floor by another passage.

The children in the orphanage had a very strict schedule. Every day would start with breakfast, then exercise, then a visit to the clinics on every floor. After that was lunch, then more exercise, another visit to the clinic, then dinner, then clinic, then sleep. In the clinic, they did nothing much. Some were given medicine, and others were checked every day, and the doctors always reported anything that happened to them. The ones on each floor were connected by an elevator, and this would be his key to reaching the third floor. If he found the second floor one, he could use the elevator to get to the third floor. Of course, it was locked with a code, but if he was lucky it would be the same. He'd gotten it by exchanging it for two breakfasts. Almost everyone knew the code, but they didn't use it, because they had no real reason to. Whether you knew the code or not revealed how long you'd been there. Every one of the older residents knew it, and he'd only gotten it to make the older children stop mocking him. They were always stealing his food and hitting him, and even getting the code didn't make them stop, though now he knew why.

He started to walk down the hall that led to the clinic. It was a long one, and he passed doors to the rooms where they'd slept as he walked, large ones with a lot of beds. They had not been separated by gender except for the bathrooms, so everyone slept together. Just two doors more and he would reach the clinic—but when he was passing one of them, he heard a sound. Out of curiosity, he looked at the door and the window that let him peer inside. It was a normal dormitory filled with beds, but instead of children sleeping, there were creatures crawling through the entire room. They looked like malformed lizards with atrophied arms and legs, sickly brown skin and a head with four protrusions that looked like eyes. They seemed to have some vision because when he put his head to the window, they started to make a noise, strangely sticky, as if they were trying to say something.

Thankfully, the servants had always locked the doors to prevent escape. When he had left, he used the window and moved to the first floor via the sloping roof—dangerous, but possible. The door was starting to creak as the things pressed against it, but they could try whatever they wanted and they still wouldn't break. They started to crawl on top of each other until they were all pressing against the door and the window, both unbreakable. He'd tried to break the window when he was a resident using a rock, but the only thing he got was a beating from the older kids for waking them with the noise. The creatures' shrieking had gotten high-pitched, and their heads pressed against the glass as he shuddered and walked away. What were they? He didn't remember anything like that when he had been here, not in the rooms where the kids slept. Of course he remembered the blood moon, the revealing of the truth to all, as well as the children's' true appearance. Disgusting things incapable of everything, and the grown folks changed into beasts, only apt to kill and destroy their true forms, their inferiors.

That was the job of the blood moon—to reveal the true form of everything and separate the strong—the creative, the changers—from the other inferiors, the parasites and beasts. That was the joy of the blood transfusion, to show the true nature of humanity, and that was why the church had created the roots of her destruction. By stimulating all of Yharnam's blood transfusions with a technique from Byrgenwerth scholars, one that made man advance quickly in evolution, they could work miracles, but only to the superiors. The supreme inferior Laurence had stolen it, but instead of the furtive pygmy that does so to give humanity free will and a chance to fight the gods, he did it to give his kind the power to break the superiors' control and dethrone them, effectively reversing the roles.

As a Byrgenwerth scholar, seeing the Healing Church, controlled by inferiors, was rising and taking control of Yharnam, he resolved to stop it. The rise and rule of the noble houses that had reigned for so long and in their infinite solidarity had led the inferiors and made them follow the laws of nature, each of the races on their side because that was their burden—to always be kind to beings that didn't deserve it. He needed to halt this monstrosity of a government led by the inferiors and take the technique to Cainhurst Castle, to the Queen of the Vilebloods and the greatest superior that had ever been born.

With the blood in her veins, she had achieved unprecedented evolution to the point of immortality, while the church had only managed to create beasts. Of course, the blood revealed the truth and elevated the status of those who received it. The superiors would become even more creative and strong, while an inferior would have the opposite effect—greedier, dumber, and finally total regression to beasthood. That was while the children in the orphanage hit and mocked him, calling him whitey, because they knew that he was a superior in the middle of a den of inferiors. They were afraid of him, because their first instinct was to be led by him, but when they were children they wanted to kill him because they feared what they did not know.

He finally reached the clinic and pulled himself out of his memories. He had to focus on the here and now, now how this world was built. The door was open, and inside was a familiar place—the walls covered in shelves full of remedies and syringes, beds to rest the children that had fallen sick, as the inferiors were naturally weaker, and the elevator shaft to the left. He heard a noise inside the clinic, the sound of something being sucked. When he looked in, something had popped out from the back of the room. It appeared to be human, but with pale white skin and pale black eyes, with a blue tube exiting it and dripping blood. Another of the fallen inferiors, and this one had to be a parasite. It ran at him with its arms extended, trying to grab him, and he stood perfectly still until it was about to reach him, then quickstepped behind it and slashed at it. It fell to the ground and he finished it with the repeating pistol, destroying its head. He moved to the elevator and pushed in the code he remembered, relieved when it came to life and began to take him to the third floor. The inferiors of the Healing Church were so dimwitted that they'd left everything the same, but what could you expect from their race?

The third floor clinic was nearly empty, many of the things moved out of the clinic. He would need to find the fourth room; that was where she would reach that place. Strangely, he didn't hear any sounds from the rooms, and why was this floor separated from others by a metal gate? He checked one of the rooms, and there was nothing there, the beds accumulating dust. Was it abandoned? He kept walking, and ahead he noticed strange things on the floor, tinted in blue light. They looked like flowers that hadn't quite budded yet, still hiding inside the plane. They appeared small, and became bigger until he had reached the fourth room, where he spent most of his childhood among the inferiors. The plants had taken over the entrance to the place, twisting around each other and locking the entrance shut. He started to cut the vines with the Chickage—not a good function for such a magnificent blade, but it would do.

He finally managed to open the door and access the room, and it was filled with thousands of plants that grew from his feet to the ceiling, on the walls and around the beds. There were so many of them that the room was bathed in blue light. What exactly had happened here? He moved to the windows, stepping across the plants, and the glass was broken to pieces. More of the plants covered the exit, but there was a passage that remained unblocked, and he used it to exit. They had taken a piece of the roof, but it helped him, because it provided a direct way for him to reach that place. Some of the plants connected them, and it was a small jump to a parapet where there were more of them.

He found himself where he had heard the screams as a child, and more importantly, with a way to make the Queen of the Vilebloods pregnant with the perfect child. He jumped into the small parapet and prepared to enter the only place with the answers he sought—the Astral Clock Tower.

 **Short but kinda of hard to write, the personality of this character passed by lot of changes until reached it's final form and inspired in certain philosophy.**

 **The thoughts of the characters in this story don't represent my thoughts it's a story and any resemblance to reality it's pure coincidence**

 **There is a chance of another chapter coming before the normal schedule it will be a surprise chapter**

 **09/01/2017 or 01/09/2017**

 **удачи**


	9. Chapter 9

**I get a message from a writer of a story that i posted a review saying that doesn't matter what i say, he doesn't care because he doesn't write for anybody, only write because he enjoy writing. Later in the message he suggest me to read things that i like because that way i will be much happier... If he doesn't care about what i write about his story why he sent me a message asking me to stop?**

 **Beta by Bellum Gerere**

Where was he? He usually stayed close to the plaza. He put the monocular to his right eye, adjusted, and…no, he wasn't there, but Olivia was, clawing at some statues. She usually stuck close to him. He walked to the left of the machine gun at the top of the building. Maybe next to the bakery? He adjusted again, and only saw Amelia and Jassus fighting over scraps of wood, the bakery destroyed behind them. At least it wasn't on fire anymore; it had scared them and only made finding him more difficult. If he wasn't there, and it was night, where could he be?

He moved to the right of the gun. No, he wasn't even in the fountain, which was full. It was the Wrison family's, and Caterina was playing in the water that still spilled, even though the fountain hadn't been fixed in quite some time. They loved playing there, him especially, but the Wrisons weren't his friends, so it wasn't a surprise that he wasn't there. The disagreement started over a place near a burning corpse at night. They liked to stay by them at night to get warm, since it was always cold outside. A stupid reason. But he wasn't even there. Where in the hunt could he _be_?

He was adjusting to look elsewhere when he heard a sound, the one that he feared the most. Gunshots. It could only mean one thing—hunters—but what kind? Most of them knew to stay away from his home, as the people here were protected by himself and Krova, who was out somewhere, watching the place. She was the last of the workshop hunters, outside of him. The rest had died defending the people from the other hunters. Jacqueline, Pedro, so many other good hunters that had given their lives to protect the defenseless.

Even through the dwindling attempts to enter the place, they had managed to convince the hunters—in quite a bloody way—from trying to enter, as they decided one by one to hunt in easier grounds unriddled by powder kegs and machine guns. Still, though he'd abandoned being a hunter himself, he hated killing the other hunters. He always tried to warn them away and ordered his colleagues to wait. If they attacked anyone in his home, they could kill him, but if not they were allowed to walk freely. Maybe it was because he always feared to shoot old colleagues and friends, though they persisted in their murderous path he always believed that they could stop and see things how he did. Shooting an old friend was a terrible feeling, especially the ones he had fought with during his years as a hunter.

He couldn't even imagine the guilt and terror if he had to kill Eileen, even though she had a duty to kill him as a "hunter of hunters." He still cared about her. By the good blood, they had fought together and saved each other's lives too many times for him to count, but if she approached this place with the intention of cleaning out the beasts he would put her down. It would bring him great remorse, but protecting his people had to come first.

The sounds continued, and he could tell they were from a pistol and not a rifle—only one shot, so they weren't Church hunters. They always used a Ludwig rifle, a repeating pistol or a flamethrower. Maybe the soldiers of Ludwig were trying again? If they weren't trying to kill the people in his home he would feel sorry for them. Instead of receiving the transfusion that allowed them a chance of a hunter fighting a creature of the hunt, they'd received a normal on that only made them capable of regenerating with blood. This already made them weak in comparison to a hunter. Even worse, they used normal weaponry such as swords and guns, effective against other humans but weak against beasts. What could a sword do against a cleric beast or a werebeast? It wouldn't even mar the fur. Hunters always had weapons that transformed to fit their needs—when fighting a cleric beast, for example, they could transform the sword into a hammer, which was more fitting to break bones.

Of course even with all of that, they had some advantages. All of them were trained very well—the first ones were trained by Ludwig himself, and the newer ones still used his training methods, as he had disappeared. In comparison to hunters that learned by trial and error, they still didn't know everything about all of the creatures and how to fight them. However, the most important thing about them and how they'd managed to hold the city was their massive numbers. Before the burning of Old Yharnam, it wasn't his home, just another place he hunted, and their numbers were already high enough to fill the gaps of missing hunters. After the burn, the numbers had more than tripled, according to the information he'd received from some of the people that had been captured. Some solders—twelve of them, a recon team—were sent to his home to see whether or not his workshop was still alive. All of them were killed after being interrogated on the state of Yharnam, and thrown outside his home in pieces. It served as a warning to other hunters—no one would enter this place again, not through the front door.

The gunshots were increasing in volume, and seemed to be coming from the back door. Perhaps it was the lunatics from Yahar'Gul again? They'd actually managed to enter his home, but instead of killing people they'd avoided them, according to Krova, who thought they appeared to be looking for something. They were left to wander, until they'd tried to explore the old cathedral and had never come back. The Vicar was very dangerous, not to mention poisonous, and didn't need protection. Anyone who tried to go up against her didn't stand a chance.

The sound returned, this time accompanied by screaming and fighting. Now that it was closer, he noticed the gunshots had a dry sound, uncommon except for the weapons of the Cainhurst nobles. They were supposed to be extinct, according to information received by soldiers of Ludwig. Maybe an adventurer had stumbled upon them? Or had the information been a lie? Did the Cainhurst still prey upon Yharnam? If that was true, and now they were seeking prey in his home, that would be a mistake.

First he checked every side of the tower. He wasn't anywhere close but he had to be sure. He simply couldn't lose him, everything was for him—the change to protect the people—and it was better for him to keep his distance from the Cainhurst. He moved to the Gatling gun and from the seat he prepared to launch fireworks. The people loved them and always went after them, because of the sound or the colors perhaps. He prepared one and took aim far away, near one of the old blood clinics. Anyone here would seek the place where it had exploded, since it would make a lot of noise, and that would limit the chances of this noble finding and killing him.

He didn't have to wait any longer, though, because he heard a sound coming from the ladder below him. Someone was climbing up. He picked up his stake driver, reconnected it to his right arm, and picked up his blunderbuss. He quickly checked that he had enough blood vials and bullets, and here they came….

* * *

It wasn't a he, but a she, and she appeared to be young, though she was dressed in hunter's garb with her face covered and a tricorn hat on her head. Common attire for any hunter, and soaked with blood at that. Her weapons were a rapier and a decorated pistol, and white lace wound around her right hand. Had they managed to create new hunters? Was this a new generation, just as bloodthirsty as the previous?

The hunter jumped at him, trying to stab with the rapier, and he dodged, shooting in hopes to stop the counterattack. She dodged the volley of bullets by moving closer to him, and he prepared the stake driver for a quick charge, releasing it and creating a small explosion with the force of the attack. The hunter jumped back and returned with a jab of the rapier and he was hit. As her blade entered his flesh, he shot at her, forcing her to jump back—a mistake, because now she was near the edge of the roof. He shot and she dodged to the left, putting herself in a corner with no way to escape. He performed a jump attack, cracking the ground where she was, but he didn't hit anything. Then he felt something in his back, and there she was. She must have ducked and passed him while he did the jump attack. He was in a bad situation now, crouching while she prepared to stab him in the heart. But she'd made a mistake. His stake driver allowed him to attack from an upward angle, different from any other hunter's weapon. He prepared a charge attack that, when released upwards, would be deadly, and released it in the form of a hook while standing up, the same time she released. He felt the blade against him, piercing him, but she had taken the drive to her stomach and flew backwards.

He didn't have time to charge the stake driver properly, but an upward attack was always strong, even with little charge. She recuperated and injected a blood vial, closing the skin. He didn't need one, as the stock hadn't hit anything critical and his body had already repaired. That was how he would win, bum king her waste her all of her blood vials, and the stake driver was the ideal weapon for that. For every one of her attacks, she would receive a stronger one, and while she needed blood vials to heal, any wounds he received from all but the most serious attacks would regenerate—a benefit of his old age and his past as a hunter.

He was surprised when she started talking softly as she circled him to the right. "Well, you're much better than the other one that I faced, and _tastier_ …" By the end her voice had dropped to a whisper, and he started to walk to the left. They circled, waiting for an opportunity to strike. She was trying to destabilize him—but two could play that game. "Other one? Funny, as if a child like you could kill a hunter."

She looked back with anger in her eyes. He'd struck a chord. "I killed her, and many other beasts far stronger than you. _Such is the duty of a hunter_."Again in the ned her voice had dropped to a whisper. Krova had died. It was a fact. If she had still been alive, she would have appeared to help him. Now he was the last of the powder keg. Killed by a bloodthirsty hunter while protecting her people. A fitting end. He wouldn't get angry. Anger led to lack of control, and that was deadly in the middle of a fight, and exactly what she would hope for. It appeared that she took pride in being a hunter. He could exploit that.

"Duties of a hunter? A child like you wouldn't know what those are." He took a step in front of her, and she jumped close, trying to stock him. He moved to the left and attacked her with the stake driver, but she dodged and slashed at him. He accepted, jumping close and releasing the blade of his weapon. Not a very strong hit, but directed at her chest. She lost a bit of her equilibrium and he followed with a shot of the rifle in her chest, retracting the stake to deliver a punch to her diaphragm, making her exhale sharply and following with a charge attack to the chest, to destroy the heart.

She flew back, near the edge of the roof, as blood spilled from her chest, and he knew she was already dead. This combination was preferred by him during his time as a hunter, and to fight humanoid enemies afterwards. But surprisingly, she got up, injecting blood vials as he tried to attack her again. She shot him with one hand while injecting, and fearing a parry, he retreated. Best to try and win by attrition. She'd already used most of her blood vials to recuperate. They started to circle again, and she said "And what do you know about a hunter's duties? You abandoned them to protect the beasts."

They weren't beasts, they were people, but she would never understand that. "Yes, I did, and what about you? You claim to be a hunter, yet you don't act like one."

"What do you mean by that? I follow my duties by killing beasts, no different from you."

"Yes, but tell me why you appear to be enjoying this battle? This is a job, not a diversion, and only beasts enjoy it."

"I AM NOT A BEAST!'' She jumped closer to him and he was able to hit her, but she continued stocking, ignoring the damage he was inflicting on her. He tried to shoot her but she only continued to hit him. Well, if she wanted to trade, he was more than capable of doing that. They started to exchange: one cut from the rapier earned her one from the stake; a shot of the pistol was met with one from the rifle. If it continued like this he would win, as he could see her body hadn't managed to repair all the damage. He shot her again and she stumbled, causing him to laugh. He'd managed a parry, which he was horrible at. He charged the stake driver and released it, but then something hit him—what? A cleric beast? And now he could see, she had faked the parry to allow him to charge. It would be easier to parry.

She retreated the rapier and attacked his chest, the blade slicing clean through his body and coming out the other side. After all this time, he refused to let it end this way. He tried to move the rifle but she shot his arm with the pistol. "I AM NOT A BEAST!'' He looked at her, and saw the cloth that had been covering her face had fallen.

"Yes, you are. The things that we hunt aren't beasts but people…" He coughed, blood spattering the blade that had pierced his lungs and heart. He had little time, but he continued. "One day you will see that you're the beast. What you are doing is madness."

She laughed. "What I'm doing? I'm killing fallen hunters and freeing this town of beasts. Just the job of a hunter."

"If that's true, why do you smile when I bleed? You're no different from the beasts you face." And she was, her grin so wide it showed her teeth, like she was enjoying some delicious thing. "Hunters don't enjoy what they do, but do you know what the difference between yourself and a beast is?"

She put her hand at his neck, holding his badge, her face one of pure fury. He heard the click of a button and felt the movement as the blade in his chest retracting. Then the familiar sound of a shot, and he was thrown back by the force of it. He was falling off the tower, and all he could feel was failure. In the end, he couldn't protect him, and Djura, the last Master of the Powder Keg Workshop died as he fell, failing at his objective to protect him and the people of Old Yharnam.

* * *

After she had cleaned out Old Yharnam, finding more blood dregs and a badge that would allow her to use more weapons, she came across a rope. It was large and intact, and appeared to be quite resistant, as well as in the place where she'd fought that fallen hunter. What was his name? Djura, or Gyula, but it didn't matter then. What was important was his delicious blood, the kind that sated most of her thirst and blood dregs that promised to give her a delicious feeling…and power, of course. That was why she was there. To gain power.

When she looked at the rope, she had an idea. Below the Church hunter's workshop, where she'd had to drop down on a precise number of boards to reach the ground and pass the Cathedral Ward, she'd noticed a door. She hadn't been able to reach it then, but she knew with this rope she could.

So she coiled it and took it with her to Odeon Chapel, marching to the workshop. The old woman was there, with a strange smile on her face and unfocused eyes; there was Arianna holding her stomach, and the man was nowhere to be found. She was crossing to the door when the Chapel Dweller called her, and she turned with barely-suppressed annoyance. She didn't have time for this, she needed to find more blood dregs for sen—power to fight the beasts.

"Hello Hunter, how are you? Fine? Because I am not, hehehehehe. Someone under my protection died, but such is the fate of humans. They die, right? Ehehehehehehe. But he didn't die normally, no. someone killed him, someone from _inside_. Beasts can't get in here, you know." Just a horrible man dying, and of course it couldn't be anyone from the inside, they weren't beasts. She shifted her weight, eager to leave. "Have you sent anyone here for me to take care of? Because if you did they might be responsible, hehehehehe."

"no. I didn't send anyone after Arianna. Goodbye, I have a hunt to partake in." But what if she had? The chapel dweller looked at Arianna with a painful expression.

"If I'm not mistaken, and I'm usually not, hehehe, she is giving birth, but she hasn't the belly." So she was pregnant. Alright, nothing major. She moved towards the elevator to take her to the Church Hunter's workshop when the beggar from before stopped her.

"Hello," Hunter. I must thank you so much for showing me this place. So secure, and filled with food. Please, take this as a gift." He handed her a paper, and she could feel a ball of something inside. She put it in her pocket and entered the elevator. As she left she could hear him saying "Now who will I taste now?" But she didn't care about him. She had done her job. Send people to the safe places, the rest they could do themselves, and why did she care if some of them said strange things? He was a human, not a beast. She had to look for more important things, like blood dregs. If she'd been paying attention, though, she would have noticed that the pupils of the beggar had collapsed long ago, even when they met. But she didn't have time to waste on such minor details.

She tied the rope around a piece of wood and tossed it into the cavern, aiming at the door. She started to climb down, thanking the good blood that she'd become strong enough to sustain her weight and all her equipment with just her arms. The descent was easier than she thought, but it took some time, and eventually she reached the far-away door. Like any other door in the city, she needed two hands to push it open, and it led to a set of stairs going down. What would be down there? More weapons? Some hunters, to give more blood dregs?

But no, what was there was…the Hunter's workshop, the same as the one in the dream, but now? Everything was identical except the locked garden. She'd always believed that the workshop was part of the dream, and never gave much thought to how. She always had more important things to focus on, like the hunt. Instead of messengers peddling things in a fountain, there was a chest in that corner. When she opened it, she found only clothes, ones that looked like the doll's clothes but smaller. She climbed the hill to enter the workshop, and there was something at the top. The tombstone that the doll stayed at, almost praying, had something on it. She looked a bit and found a bone, which looked like it belonged on a finger. There was something strange about it, the same feeling as when she picked the beast roar in the forbidden woods, and the Empty Phantasm Shell. Maybe this was a hunter's tool? But what would its function be? She would have to do what she always did and ask Gehrman.

She entered the house, with the same architecture as the one in the dream, and lit the lamp in the middle. Illuminated, she could tell it had been empty for quite some time, with all the cabinets and shelves empty and covered in dust. Next to the door was a doll— _the_ doll, but smaller, with the same appearance, the same joints and eyes and clothes. There was something in her lap as well, a small hair ornament that had been clearly well taken care of, as it was clean and free of rust. She put it in her pockets, nothing that there were no weapons and she would have to move on. She had to continue the hunt and pass Annalise to receive her reward, and she felt her body tighten with excitement. While she was moving to the lamp, she looked at the altar, and saw something there, a wormlike creature with eyes all across its body. She retreated in disgust as she teleported to the dream.

The first thing she needed to do was ask Gehrman about the Hunter Tool she had found, or if it was even a tool. She entered the house and there he was, in the same spot as always. He looked at her for a second then away, disinterested. "Gehrman? I found another Hunter's tool, I think. Can you tell me how this one works?"

He extended his arm so she could give him the small bone, and when he looked at it an expression of surprise crossed his face. He appeared almost sad. "Where did you find this?"

"In a place that looked identical to the dream, but in the waking world. In a tombstone. Why?"

"Some have tried to copy the workshop when they woke from the dream. It was probably one of those."

"Why would they do that? There was even a doll…like ours, but smaller and unmoved."

His expression returned to normal. "Yes, they are so obsessed with this place that they try to recreate everything, even the doll." His voice was filled with anger. People were crazy, she'd seen that during the hunt, but this felt like too much.

"What about the bone?"

He sighed. "It allows the user to quickstep by exchanging bullets. It allows for quick dodging and more effortless movement, almost teleporting." It sounded useful, when fighting beasts that attacked in a flurry she could go behind them and use less of her stamina moving and more on attacks.

"Thank you. Can I have it back?" He still held it, feeling the bone with his fingers, but he handed it back to her and she exited the building.

He couldn't believe what he'd done. He'd given her the last remains, the finger that she lost during a fight that he had kept for himself without telling anyone. She's started using gloves and a small wooden prosthetic to compensate for the loss. He always looked at it when she was gone—so perfect, like her, and when she disappeared it was the only thing he had left of her. He buried it, but it had come back to him, and instead of keeping it he had given it to this hunter. She would have more chances, then, to complete this exchange, the only piece of his love for a chance at freedom. Now the eye of the drunk hunter he carried in his clothes suddenly felt heavier. He'd sacrificed everything for freedom, her body and soul, and he had never felt so disgusted by himself. He was tired. He wanted only for this to end.

* * *

She needed to see Annalise, but not until she'd transformed the blood she had to power. She'd gain a lot for the beasts she had killed. The doll, in the same place at the base of the stairs, curtsied as she saw her coming and said "Welcome home, good hunter. What is it that you desire?"

It was always the same. "I want to transform my blood echoes into power."

"Very well. Let the echoes become your strength. Let me stand close. Now shut your eyes…" The doll crouched, holding her hand, and she felt the familiar sensation of the blood leaving her, being replaced with power. It took a while, the fallen hunters she had killed assured that, and she'd cleaned out a large part of Old Yharnam in the process. When it was over, the doll stood up. First to Annalise for more, then back to the hunt. As she headed towards the tombstone she remembered the hair ornament that had belonged to the copied doll. Well, maybe this one would like it.

"Here, doll," she said, handing it to her. "I hope that you like it. Someone very much like you had one."

The doll looked at the ornament in her hand. "I don't understand….what is this?" Her voice was trembling, and had lost its mechanical tone. "I—I don't remember it, I never saw it, but I feel…I don't know, but I enjoy it…I want to feel again. Tell me, good hunter, is this happiness?"

The hunter was in shock. The figure in front of her had begun to seem less like a doll and more like a person. Her posture was relaxed, and something was shining in her eyes. She passed a hand in front of her face, and that moment was gone. "I am sorry, good hunter. I don't know what happened. But thank you. Please, take this."

The hunter held her hand out. The thing the doll placed in it was a crystal tear. She didn't know how that was possible, but she put it in her pocket anyway. She could break it to use as a blood gem, but she knew that she wouldn't. Something was off about the doll, and suddenly Gehrman's excuses didn't make sense. Before she could think on it more, she felt the thirst rising, and the need to sate it outweighed everything else. As any addict that goes through withdrawal, she forgot about everything else, all her focus on getting more of her drug. The hunter prepared to go meet Annalise.

* * *

In another place, very far away, a woman was preparing herself to receive a gift. She had done everything in her capacity, testing first in Iosefka's Clinic, where it worked partially and gave her some Madman's Knowledge to increase her insight. She had evolved, but not enough. She was passive. The brain was missing. She could advance, but the insight would fry her brain, the same thing that happened to Rom, who transcended humanity as a spider to stop the transformation moon, delaying human evolution.

The results showed that proximity to great ones evolved the beings. The problem was, the more powerful the great one the more insight would be passed, evolving the individual but breaking the brain with this amount of new knowledge and sensations. The same problem as before, but there was a solution. Becoming the host of a great one would allow her to evolve as a fetus, still a great one but premature, and would let her brain handle things and pass to the capacity of becoming more than human. Finally, she would become a great one. She wanted to do more tests, but she couldn't find anyone, and she only needed the umbilical cord of a great one, as it was the only way to host one of them. That was the major problem—where to find one?

At that moment, a brainsucker entered into the rom. She started to reach for her weapon, but the thing wasn't doing anything hostile, and his clothes were tattered but well maintained. It moved towards her and presented a letter, which she was quite surprised by. Some of them followed orders, but those were rare, and only one faction within the Church could control them. The letter bore a seal of a blue eye to signify the cosmos. The symbol of the Choir, the elite of the church. For them to send a letter to her, a small researcher, was a great honor. She opened it carefully and the brainsucker retreated.

 _To Akilina, Researcher of the Healing Church,_

 _We members of the Choir have noticed your great work and everything you have done for us, and we are proud to have you as a member of the Healing Church. Unfortunately, we have received information that you have been doing experiments during this hunt that are outside the permission of the Church and can be considered a crime, punishable by death._

The brainsucker suddenly looked far more terrifying. If the Choir was after her, she would be dead within days—and how had they even found out about her actions? She'd taken a great deal of care to keep them hidden. But she needed all the test subjects. They served a great purpose, and what was one life in comparison to the evolution of man?

 _Instead of a punishment, we have decided to help you. You are in need of an Umbilical Cord from a Great One, and we are willing to provide this to you. Your experiment is for the good of mankind, and your infractions will not be considered as such. More importantly, we hope to see you managing your experiments well and achieving their goals, for we hope that we, too, can replicate what you have done._

 _In exchange for this, we ask a small favor of you. Our emissary has carried you another letter than we are not capable of delivering, as some would be repulsed by his appearance. We need you to deliver it for us. The recipient is a member of our beloved church; he is a hunter and works to protect us. This letter contains instructions to defeat enemies who seek to stop us from achieving the evolution of mankind and want to destroy our Great Church, and it is imperative he receives it. His name and current location are in the letter. After you do this, you will receive the Umbilical Cord._

A letter. She only had to deliver a letter and her dreams would come true. She was so close to reaching a true breakthrough. "I accept for the grace of the church and the evolution of man," she said to the brainsucker, who handed her the other letter and exited the room. She followed after him, sure of the hunter's location and eager to continue her work.

* * *

"Civilian, you should be in your home, even if you are armed. It is the night of the hunt."

"I'm not a civilian, but a researcher of our Great Church. I came here with a letter from the Choir."

"The Choir? What would they want with a lowly church hunter like me? And what proof do you have this is from the choir themselves?"

"I don't know. I was only asked to deliver it, so here it is. The symbol of their order is on the seal, and that is impossible to falsify and should serve as proof." The hunter took the letter, looking at the seal. So it was true, though he still wasn't quite sure what they wanted from him. The woman left, as her duty had ended. He opened the letter to see two pieces of paper, and read the first one.

 _We of the Choir know that you seek vengeance and to finally transform your master into a Martyr. Such is our wish. After many years, we have managed a way to do it._

That was all that was written there, but when he looked at the other he nearly fainted. It was an unopened summons to Castle Cainhurst—but how had they found it? It didn't matter. He would do it this night. He would finally make Master Logarius a Martyr and acknowledge his last wish to kill the Queen of the Vilebloods. This night Alfred, the last executioner, would rid the world of the Vilebloods.

The thing had moved all of his tools, had made sure everything was prepared and in its place. It was a plan so sophisticated and elaborate that no human mind could understand it. This night Ebrietas would remove the Moon Presence from existence.

 **Update in 19/01/2017 or 01/19/2017**

 **Review, Message me or anything to let me know if i am doing a good work**

 **удачи**


	10. Chapter 10

**The end of the forth season of RWBY was...a end of the season? Really there isn't much to say the entire season was basically a prologue to what will happen in the future seasons and if we thought about not much things happened in forth season. It isn't bad, it don't compare to the end of Season 6 of Game of Thrones that look great If you do not think too much because if you do...(how a teenager girl had strength to carry two bodies and how did she make a noble be alone without his bodyguards? How there was tons of explosives bellow a super convenient place they always were there? and more). At least RWBY it isn't rushed or anything just there, they could at least kill one character there was a opportunity but yeah let's see the future at least it didn't alter anything for this fic**

Rarely when looking at a game of chess can one predict a winner, but when one side has less pieces, the result is easy to call. More pieces means more choices, more chances to trap the adversary's king and protect your own. That was why, if anyone could see this game, the result was obvious: the black had only a pawn, knight, bishop, and king. The other side was painted blue and had all its pieces save a bishop and a tower. Strangely, there was a red knight in the middle of the board, and a red queen far away from it. The board was much larger than usual, and the players played a strange game: three colors and a large board. What was strange about it, though, was the players, more so than the game.

The one playing black was a woman wearing strange mismatched clothes, her nails lacquered different colors and her eyes different hues, and it seemed as though every strand of her hair shone differently. Some were curled, others were straight. She appeared to be wearing a black coat over a brightly-colored blouse, and pants with different textures and colors. She was either crazy or daring, not caring much about what others thought. Stranger than her was the man playing blue. He wore a black tuxedo and shirt, and in contrast to her, his appearance screamed conformity. Everything matched, from his hair to his tie to his black eyes and his blank, shaved face. In the end, however, no one looked at them. It was almost as if they were both invisible.

Consider the place they were. It sounded almost impossible, as bombs exploded around them and the sound of bullets raged. Unflinching, they continued staring at the game. They were in a nearly destroyed building. The walls still stood, but not for long. There was a table in the center of the room where they sat. The ceiling had collapsed, and the table sat precariously atop the rubble.

A battle raged outside as groups of individuals, men and women in any kind of clothing one could imagine, ran by. The only thing uniting them were red clamps on their arms. The area was filled with barricades, made out of furniture and pieces of the pavement, and the ruined buildings ringed the area. All of them were behind the barricades, armed with a wide selection of weapons, from pistols to rifle to even an arquebus. Two flags were raised in the middle of the barricades, one with a half of her black and the red the division done diagonally another with three colored stripes: red, yellow, and purple.

They waited for the enemy to advance in the street, some praying while clutching their collars and others trying to assure their companions that they would survive the day and return to their families. Others were happy to finally fight against the fascists, the last wave of the imperialist capitalists. They knew with their last breaths their victory was assured. Didn't the greatest minds write that the proletariat united always won?

The hopes and dreams of the people at the barricades were of little notice to the pair inside the building. They were engrossed in larger and far more important games, encompassing vastly more than the simple minds of the individuals outside.

The man looked at the board, then the woman. "It appears we have a winner," he said in a mechanical voice.

"It appears so, brother," she replied, her tone broken, every word filled with a different emotion.

"What can we do to change the outcome? This result isn't good for either of us."

The woman rested her head in her hand. "If you accept we can change things, we can make the black side win."

"Useless, sister. If the black or blue wins, it is our defeat." He stopped and looked around. "To change the results, we need to eliminate the black queen—but, as you can see, she isn't on the board." The queen was to the side, near the edge of the table. "Even if we manage to put her on the board, she would control any piece left of her color, sister."

The woman shook her head. "Well, we can make the red side emerge victorious, and they will provide what we want for a short time."

"I prefer long-term solutions, sister, and the red side is already dead." The man pointed at one of the blue towers, very close to the red queen, and the knight was nearly surrounded by pawns.

"It appears the black side cares enough about the survival of this knight brother." The black bishop had moved, at the side of the red knight.

"The black wants to gain time, and what better way than with a red knight roaming around the board? It's worth a bishop." The man looked at the battlefield, and at the red queen. "With the loss of the queen, how will red return to the battlefield, sister?"

"The undead queen means nothing to you, brother?"

"Nothing. Even immortal, when she returns the game will already be over."

While they discussed, the sound of bullets grew louder, and the people on the barricades prepared their weapons. The crashing and pounding of footsteps was increasing, coming from the end of the street. They started to emerge there, men outfitted in green, carrying rifles and submachine guns. The shooting began almost immediately, the people on the barricades fighting against those marching down the street, and newcomers started to look for cover while the shots were exchanged.

The shootout meant nothing to the pair inside. Neither cared, even when the attackers tried to use the building to flank the barricades. They simply passed them by, and when the defenders noticed and started to shoot the attackers, none of the bullets even came close to the pair.

The woman took a deep breath. "So if any of the blue and black win, we lose. The red is already gone. What can we do, brother?"

"Well, if the black queen comes to the board, we have a chance."

"If she comes she will take control of all the pieces. The pawn is her creation, the king swears his fealty and the kni—" She halted and looked at the board. "The knight? It's our chance? You know very well what the knight is. It can take many pieces, but how will it change things?"

"Sister, the game is already lost. We must contain the damage by removing the queens and the knight is our only chance."

"If the knight survives, the black queen will enslave him and he will become the new king. How will we stop that? And tell me we have to deal with the blue side first, brother."

"Look closer, sister, at the red knight." The woman looked, and a shocked expression appeared on her face. "That is crazy. If the red knight survives, you expect him to take the blue king? That will make the blue queen vulnerable, but who will finish her? The black knight? First he has to take the brown pieces. He certainly will do it…"

The man smiled. "If we follow this idea, we have to give the black knight a chance against his queen, and I think that black pawn may be the key."

The man looked at his sister, then the table, confused. "What does the pawn have to do with the black knight?"

"Well, brother, if the pawn manages to take the key from the black king, the knight will go to a certain place where he can gain power to fight the queen."

"And you call me crazy, sister. How will we make this happen? The pawn is under control of the queen."

"Wrong. The knight gave the pawn something, and this gives us a breach, brother."

"Still, this I very risky, and we have no clue if it will work. Worse, we aren't even counting others. The crow, the host, the narrowed, the reborn and the wet nurse, sister."

"You know very well they have no place in this board. They are only food for the queen, and the blue queen's brother."

"So that is our plan, sister?"

"Yes, it is."

"Well, best not waste any time, then. Let's begin."

The attackers had retreated. The defenders cheered, happy they had survived and the fascists had been killed—but their joy was short-lived. At the end of the streets, a thing popped out, not higher than a man and covered in metal, with a fixed tower a bit higher than the rest of it. On the tower was a machine gun, and a flag wound around it. It turned and as it faced the defenders, it started to fire and advance. "Tanque!" one of the defenders screamed.

The tank started to advance while the defenders tried uselessly to stop it. The men with green clothes were marching behind it, using it as cover to shoot. Quickly, the defenders retreated as the tank rolled over the barricades, and then men in green raised their flags: stripes of red, yellow, and red.

Now the pair was watching what happened closely, the man commenting with a happy smile: "Soon I will rule this country, sister."

"You will, brother," the woman said sadly, "But soon this will pass. You always pass."

"There are more of them coming. They promised counties where I reign. The states are total. Soon, sister, your time in this world will be over."

The woman laughed. "Brother, you forget something. Your states love war and violence, and that is where I reign. It's in their core. They can pretend you rule them, but in the end I will live on in this eternal conflict." She chuckled for a moment more, then stopped abruptly. "Let's forget these small fights, brother. Let's make sure that we both don't lose another board. Come, we have a pawn to meddle with."

The woman stood up, and the man a second after, and in a moment they were gone. Now, in the place where they'd been, nothing remained of their pretend war. Only an empty chessboard.

* * *

The Astral Clock Tower was a confusing place. Even the name was misleading, as there were two towers, one that hosted the clock and the other the astral tower, united by a bridge that led to the interior of the clock, used mostly for repairing it or for experiments about old ones that only resulted in failure. As the tower with the clock was unnamed and the other was astral, they combined the names. How else would the scientists come here? A good question, as a man in a wheelchair crossed the bridge towards the clock. Bandages covered his eyes, but he still had sight, and he wore a strange hat. He'd stumbled a little as he descended the stairs, but nothing would stop him from attending his mistress. He rolled past the small bridge, and when he arrived at the stairs he simply threw himself off and dragged his body upwards with his arms. Nothing would stop him, not even the damage he was taking to his body.

He finally reached the place she'd shown him, behind the giant clock where only its tolling bells could be heard. He removed the candles from his vest and formed them into a circle, lighting them one by one while he recited in an old dead language. After they were all lit, he removed a knife from his vest and cut his hand, creating another circle inside the first, this time with blood. After that, there was only one thing, but he had not yet received, and he could feel his mistress was close. The air had changed, and he was surrounded in the glorious sensation of her. "Mistress, the ritual is done, but it is missing something…a soul, a dark soul of man, as they say."

A sickeningly sweet smell assaulted his nostrils. It was the only way she could communicate with him, a lesser being. "What do you mean? There is a soul here? But this place is abandoned, and I am the only one here." A gentle wind touched his face. "M-m-me? But mistress, you promised after this night I would be something greater! I only had to give a blood transfusion. I prepared as you asked, that place…I can find someone there. There are still people in the city, and the beasts have souls, right? So I will get one. There has to be somewhere in this tower I can use…"

He started to move, but a harsh wind trapped him on the ground. "But you promised I would become something greater…you promised…"

He couldn't breathe, but he could feel the blood in his throat that blocked his windpipe. She had given him blood when he contacted her. It took some time for him to die, drowning in the blood. The body lay there, immobile, as the blood seeped into the circle, until only the bones were left, slowly dissolving. Inside the circle was a pool of blood. The ritual had been completed, now it only waited for someone to come.

* * *

There were many things he expected to see in the Astral Clock Tower. Failed experiments of the inferiors of the church, the inferiors themselves, or even guards, but it was empty, covered in the same flowers as before. Strangely, the wall and floors were dry, as if the plants were parasites sucking the water out of the wood. It didn't make sense. They were in the orphanage, where the floor was stone, so why was this place dry? It was in a rainy climate, and it had rained a day before this hunt. Well, it didn't matter. He only had one objective: to find the research of the sacred scientist that had brought the blood to the Greatest Superior Annalise.

Before he had run with the blood, he'd worked in this place, according to the data he found in the church's archives. He'd fought a great number of inferiors to exit that place, and in the streets they increased the patrols after him, but never said why. Of course, the inferiors knew that a superior still walked among them. How terrified would they become?

When the researcher ran with the blood, the Clock Tower was already deserted, and rumors said that everyone inside had disappeared, though it was merely the ramblings of inferiors. An entire research group vanishing in seconds was ridiculous, to say the least. This was where he had hidden most of his research, as well as the last place he'd visited before he stole the blood from the church, and what better place to hide it than a deserted laboratory? He'd worked for it, and it was considered cursed by the inferiors, who wouldn't come here out of fear and stupidity. How they'd survived evolution was a miracle to him.

He continued to move around this strange place, heading to the first floor, the most logical place for the researcher to hide his data. The process of climbing down was slow, as he used the flowers as a makeshift ladder. The stairs were too fragile after all these years. As he reached the first floor, he misstepped and fell, injecting a blood vial as he fell to inject inferior blood. His body only used it as food to repair itself; they did not mix, like water and oil, one clean and pure and the other filthy. It took less than a second for him to hit the ground and he felt the pain throughout his entire body. He wanted to scream, but a superior should not show pain, so he injected another blood vial to heal the damage and got up. He proceeded towards where he thought the data was, taking larger steps as his body healed.

He stopped at a doorway that had the word "archives" written on it, with no flowers on the door, though they seemed to be scattered across the room inside. It was completely circled with bookshelves covered in materials, with a surgery table in the middle and an elevator to the right. He looked through all the books and papers, but found nothing. As he was examining the rest of the room, he saw a message on the table. It read "only those with pure blood can open the secrets." He had pure blood, he thought, superior blood, but how would he open these secrets?

Well, if his blood was pure he had to prove it. He cut his arm and allowed the blood to drip onto the ground. The room started to glow a strange blue, stopping where there had been a column in the north corner. It had been replaced by a door. When he tried it, it was open, and he stepped into a much smaller room, with a single chair and table on which rested a book covered in loose papers. The table appeared to be well-used, covered in scratches and wax drippings. He locked the door and sat down. This had to be the research; here he could find a way to save the superiors. Here, history was being written.

He had to move quickly. He was a blind beast, incapable of defending himself in this small space. He opened the book and started to read, searching for clues that might help him. It appeared to be a researcher's journal, and the notes were meticulous. He searched only for one thing, though: how to make the Queen give birth to the heir of the world, the supreme superior who would return the world to its natural order by being born the most perfect of beings. When the researcher had given the blood to the queen, he was already in bed ill, with wounds caused by the escape, according to rumor, but now he would finish his work.

 _11/10/389  
This new batch of blood is quite peculiar. I found that the creature in the Hinter Tomb Chalice Dungeon whose blood had been acquired, hadn't been informed. I must demand again that the explorers catalog what they find. In the first test we noted that its comportment is different from any other we have received. To use a common term, it is "hungry." Every other type of blood we try to combine with it is absorbed and simply disappears. What kind of species does this belong to?_

 _11/22/389  
Subjects 84 and 97, injected with this batch, have become desperate beings that crave any kind of blood. They are like animals, killing anything in their way, and they had broken from their restraints, screaming to make the thirst stop. When they were offered blood, some demanded more and more. It appears that normal blood is insufficient, as when we offered them blood from the other test subjects they calmed themselves. It seems that this batch of "thirst" can be appeased only by others of its own kind. Rarely have we seen this form of nutrition. It makes no sense. How can a species only have its need for food sated by its own kind? In a few years, it's likely the entire species will die out. _

_01/15/390  
Finally, we have received authorization to free one of the subjects of the batch called "thirst," number 173, in a controlled space with another subject to see how he fares._

 _01/16/390  
Subject 173 was released, along with subject 280, who is only a control test and hasn't been injected with any of the batches. Immediately, 173 killed 280 with its bare hands, in the most gruesome way possible, by biting the neck, removing the nose, and hitting the head of the victim against the wall multiple times until the skull opened. Then, he opened the body close to the chest, using his own hands to tear the skin and break the bone. (Note: The increase in muscle mass is amazing, considering physical appearance has not changed.) When he had broken the piece and removed his bloody trophy, possibly a spleen, he proceeded to "drink it" and entered a state of euphoria similar to orgasm._

 _01/19/390  
After the "drink," subject 173 has become calmer and more coherent. He answered some questions when the thirst subsided, but now he looks for more of this sensation._

 _03/21/390  
The test continues. We offered subject 173 the blood of others infected with the batch, and it appears his reaction is stronger than before._

 _04/02/390  
Finally, we understand the thirst batch and its effects. The sensation the infected feel forces them to drink blood. The reason? Reproduction. In female subjects, we noticed increased activity of the uterus in autopsies, as though in a constant state of ovulation. The blood was "heavy," appearing to carry more genetic material that concentrated in the uterus, and when the subjects interact with the victim, it creates substances that form the "spleen," as we've been calling it, allowing them to "drink." It appears this batch can reproduce itself, but how is that possible? More studies are required and it appears that to all subjects, the blood of infected females is preferable. We could not find any comparable genetic material in males._

 _05/14/390  
Apparently, the Church has been interfering with our studies, demanding we focus only on the blue batch and destroy the other ones. Preposterous. The thirst batch has so much potential. I will continue to check it in an effort to figure out why the need for reproduction is so great._

 _07/02/390_

 _I have been sent to the Astral Clock Tower as part of a double research team. Apparently, the chief of security is a hunter called Maria. Good. At least it's someone that doesn't belong to the church._

 _10/02/390  
I've found a secluded post to work, and finally have time to study the batch. Based on the results from the fishing village, I think I'm close to cracking the mystery of where I'm working. Things are starting to get strange…_

 _11/04/390  
The situation is getting progressively worse. The chief of security has been taking the side of the subjects and comforting them. She only hadn't kill every researcher here because there are many church guards here and they have the task of killing the patients if she gets out of line._

 _11/09/390  
The Church has prohibited all studies of our previous batch. Only the blue batch is allowed. They posted church hunters at Byrgenwerth and occupied it. I need a place to study outside the claws of the church, and who better to go to than the nobles? I've heard the Queen of the Vilebloods is barren. Maybe she would take interest in a way to get pregnant? Of course, it doesn't create pregnancy, but it stimulates ovulation, and maybe that would help her. I will find a way to communicate with her. I need to continue my research, and what better sponsor than a queen?_

 _01/01/391  
I don't think the Church scientists fully understand how much danger we're in. The chief of security is getting angrier, and instead of placating her with less tests, they put more guards. She is Maria, apprentice to Gehrman, the first hunter. If this woman wants, she could kill this entire building of useless guards. They don't know of the monster we have here. On the other hand, the exchange with the Queen is going well. She has sent me her blood, and I will start to test with it and watch for reactions._

 _02/03/391  
The reactions are amazing. The bloods combines are impossible, according to all studies, but instead of one devouring the other, they unite. This new blood has the same characteristic, but is self-preserving, and any damage is immediately repaired. It doesn't need blood to sate itself, and technically it can give immortality to the Queen as well, but why does her blood have this reaction while others don't?_

 _04/02/391  
I cannot figure it out. I need more instruments, more research, but I've discovered the reason for the thirst batch's obsession with reproduction and its strange comportment about food. It's an old one, and the answer is so simple: the blood acts on primitive instinct to reproduce, the only way of making more until another appears, like some kind of mitosis. The blood of its own species works better. This is a breakout in the studies of old ones. They can assume multiple forms, but they are the same species, and inside that species exists predators who hunt themselves. This changes everything. If the queen manages to get pregnant with this blood, would she birth an old one? It sounds ridiculous, but theoretically, the answer is yes._

 _05/15/391  
I have sent all the data to the Queen. She will sponsor me, and she is delighted by the result. After I told her the child would be different from the norm, she said that she will give birth to the perfect child made of blood…nobles. I will be moving soon, as the situation has gone bad. The patients have begun to arm themselves, and Lady Maria issued an ultimatum to release them or she will kill everyone here. The Church has started to lay traps and set up outposts to try and contain the situation, and they've locked some of the rooms via a strange mechanism on top of the building._

 _05/16/391  
I am gathering my things. I only need to get to Byrgenwerth to get the thirst batch. But I've discovered something about the pregnancy: it will take thousands, or even millions of beings to make her pregnant. Hunter's blood values common by fifth, but though it will take time, I am giving her immortality._

 _05/17/391  
I am so stupid. As I was finally leaving yesterday, my way was blocked when I realized something. The pregnancy can only occur if there is a suitable host for all the material. Logically, it needs a place to settle. I will need an umbilical cord of an old one; the things are practically clay to them. Every after that, it will take thousands of beings. I will warn the queen when I arrive. I'm very curious to see how this child can be born. What an amazing day for science, with the amount of data. I will have to leave the book here. They are searching everyone before we leave. I'll hide the door and make the requirement to open it affiliation with the queen, or me. I will leave a message about purer blood on the surgery table, in case the queen sends anyone here to retrieve my data. _

So he would need a third of the umbilical cord, to deliver to the queen so she could finally become pregnant with the perfect child. The diary was illustrative, a researcher fighting against the inferior church and finally searching for the superior so he could develop his search in peace. This man was surely a martyr. In the future, there would be statues of him, when the superior reign had begun. He put the book in his clothes and left the room, making his way to the entrance—but when he reached the first floor, he was not alone. There was a large group waiting for him, twelve in white garb covering black clothes, and hats that covered their eyes. The choir. One of them spoke:

"You have only one choice. Surrender, and we will give you a quick death. Resist, and you will suffer."

He looked at all sides, searching for a way to escape. The only opening was the elevator in the floor. He would need to run back in the door while escaping the bullets, though.

"Are you going to stay silent, bloody crow?"

He tried to distract him while he moved back slowly. "You aren't hunters. You have no chance against me, a superior."

"We are not hunters, but we are many. We are the soldiers of Ludwig. By numbers we overcome. And you are trying to run back to the room."

He immediately turned, shook the bone to quickstep, and ran into the room, dodging bullets as he went. He locked the door behind him and ran to the elevator, activating it. The inferiors were soon behind him, and started to shoot, one with a flamethrower. The dry wood started to catch fire. The elevator reached a surgery floor, and the next floor's gate was closed. It must have been broken. If he could see, he would have noticed the fire was spreading quickly.

He ran to the door and a blade passed him, which he dodged. He retaliated out of instinct, and felt the blade cut through something. A choir member's arm. They looked at the stump, shocked, and he used the opportunity to shoot them in the face. He continued to the door, and he had to climb the structure to escape. He moved to the stairs and climbed as quickly as he could while avoiding the flowers, but a group of three choir hunters were in the stairs. The first shot at him, and as he dodged the second moved in with a kirkhammer while the first and third shot him. It would have been a good tactic, if he wasn't a superior. He parried the hammer and shot its owner in the face with a riposte, usually reserved for more valorous enemies, then jumped to dodge a shot and continued climbing.

He jumped closer to one of them and deflected their blade's swing, cutting their head, then shooting the other one in the leg and beheading it as well. He climbed the stairs, and he could hear the rest trying to ambush him. He knew he had entered two floors behind. Another choir member appeared with a rifle, but one dodge later he lost his head. He would have to use the flowers to get where he needed to be. He climbed as quickly as he could, and made it to the top with only a couple of bullets to his back, which he healed with a blood vial. He was close to the parapet, and right as he reached the door he heard something click. He jumped back as his path exploded—a delayed Molotov cocktail. The way to the parapet was covered in flames, quickly spreading across the building. Very well, but how would he escape? He'd seen a huge door earlier, but to access it he would need to move a mechanism on top of the building. When he turned, the remaining choir members were behind him. He would have to fight all of them and many more to get where he was going.

He dodged the first attacked and passed him while he shot at the one behind him. He lowered his head to escape the next and cut the being's arm as he got up. He was in the middle of them now. The next one tried to set him on fire, but he was quicker, swirling and dodging as he shot and slashed with his blade. He took any hits he couldn't dodge with ease, injecting blood vials as needed. The choir members fell one by one, screaming, and the others noticed and retreated a little, escaping the blast of the cocktail he'd just thrown.

The flowers around them started to burn, and he prepared another cocktail to help it spread. It would give him some time, at least. He ran ahead, climbing with the flowers as a ladder, and reached another floor, twisting and turning to get to the mechanism. The entire floor was on fire now, and it was spreading quickly to the rest of the building. Now he was at the top of the building, taking care not to fall until he reached the mechanism and turned it. It was quite heavy, but he continued until he heard a loud sound, as the platform started to rise, and he'd opened the way to the door. He looked back at the fire that was consuming more and more of the floor. He needed to hurry. He got down to where he was, but something peculiar was happening to the flowers. They'd closed, but now started to open until they were huge dull sunflowers. Beings started to emerge from them, with huge blue heads and grey skeletal bodies, their eyes glowing.

They began to attack, and he dodged and cut one, shot the other. More started to rush at him, and they were quick, but very weak. He managed to fend them off easily, but he would have to run. As he went, more beings emerged after him. When he reached the stairwell they had already practically filled it. Some of them had hairlike growths coming out of their heads, emitting beams of light against him. He dodged them and started slashing, knowing that one hit would fell him. He put the Chikage in its transformed formed and activated the bone, knowing speed was key. He could feel his arm being burned, but that did not stop him, and he simply injected a blood vial. He was close to the entrance now, and he'd reached an elevator that was miraculously still working. He was covered with the blood of the things he'd killed as he worked to cut the flowers away so the elevator would move. Despite his efforts, it was still stuck. Looking up, he noticed a trapdoor, which he could reach by jumping, and inside he found the cables. It was a stupid idea, but he refused to die by inferiors' hands. He transformed the Chickage, charged and released, leaving a dent. Again, and again…

The cable had been cut, and the elevator fell, destroying any flowers below him. A moment later, he heard a loud noise, and the place where he was standing trembled…

* * *

When he woke up, his body was hurting, but he managed to inject another blood vial. He was in the wreckage of the elevator, and he moved to the entrance. The gate there had opened, and as he exited he was welcomed by a large quantity of smoke and fire form the other elevator. He ran to the door, gaining speed with every step as his body healed. Outside the door, he could tell the entire towers was on fire, and he took the stairs running. He could feel himself burning but he continued, entering the platform. He was almost there, at the giant door. His shoes had caught fire and he could feel his feet burning, but he persisted until he reached the door, opening it with his hands against the burning metal. He injected his last two blood vials, and it helped with the burns, but it was still too little for the amount of damage he'd taken.

He was in a garden now, with the same floor as before and a huge tree in the middle, but none of the beings emerged here. He made his way to the other side wearily, cursing his burned feet. He climbed the stairs with great difficulty until he reached a dead end behind the giant clock. Soon the fire would reach this place, but that didn't matter. There was something in the room. A circle of candles with blood inside. Probably a crazy inferior ritual, he thought, but he could use the blood to heal himself. He decided to enter the circle, but against his will, almost as if he was being controlled. He tried to leave, but something was keeping him in place. Suddenly, he felt a strange sensation, and when he looked down at his hands, they were fading. He attempted to move away, but he was frozen in place, and then all of a sudden the Blood Crow disappeared and escaped the Astral Clock Tower.

He appeared again far away, falling to the ground. As he got up, he could see it appeared to be a room full of weapons, with blood vials and bullets organized on shelves. A depot of guns. He moved closer to one of them and grabbed some blood vials, injecting them after checking to make sure they were normal. There was only one door to the room, and a piece of paper was affixed to it. He moved closer so he could read it: _You were saved to continue your work, freeing the world of inferiors and letting superiors assume their rightful places. In this room is everything you might need. I ask only one thing: destroy the Choir. Here is the location of their headquarters. Go, and free the world of the Church._

Suspicious, but he would go. Whoever saved him wouldn't lead him into a trap. He could have killed or captured him, but didn't. If this letter was true, the inferiors would lose their greatest ally, and the Church would be destroyed with it. The Church need to be destroyed, as vengeance for the massacre. Unfortunately, he didn't have a way to get to Cainhurst Castle. He wasn't pure enough as he spent most of his life around the inferiors, he needed to do something to prove his worth and superior status to the queen. Maybe if he killed the head of the snake, the Queen would approve of his entrance into the nobles of Cainhurst. Now he only needed to equip himself.

* * *

She felt strange after receiving the ornament from the hunter. She couldn't remember the conversation, but sometimes she felt strange things. Like when she was attending the plants, or when the hunter talked to her to channel blood echoes, she felt something warm. She felt it when she stood next to Gehrman, too, but it was different. This felt wrong, too hot, like it hurt enough to make her not want to look at him.

She'd looked at all the books in the workshop, trying to find out what they feeling was. She even asked the little ones to find more, so she could understand. What she'd discovered was that the warm sensation was called happiness. Such a strange name. It appeared when the being was glad that someone or something was close, or had happened. Well, she liked the good hunter's presence, and tending the garden. The warmth that made her not look at Gehrman appeared to be shame, the sensation of looking at something dishonorable or ridiculous, but why did she feel shame for Gehrman? He was the master of the workshop, and she must obey him, but sometimes he shot her…that was what it was. The hurt was anger, a feeling of displeasure and belligerence towards someone or something. She had never questioned it, but why _did_ he shoot at her? Before, she didn't care, but now…now, sometimes it hurt. But she had to obey him. That was her duty.

She was close to him now and the anger was still there. He was sleeping, and she needed to take him back to the workshop. There was something in his left pocket. A stone. She wasn't sure how she knew that, but it didn't matter. She had a duty. But it was calling her…she put her hand in the pocket and took it. He was a heavy sleeper, he wouldn't notice. She put her hand in his left pocket and removed it very slowly. Gehrman was such a heavy sleeper that she didn't disturb him at all. The stone looked like an eye, and it was strange as…then she saw it. A world filled with beasts and hunters locked in a never-ending hunt. She saw a horse beast looking for light, but it was in his back the whole time. Another looked for a way to be whole again, but it wasn't possible, so it continued in that limbo of burning. A group of malformed beings in a giant tower tried to accomplish what they'd been created for, but they all failed. A woman in a chair appeared. She looked like her and emanated a desire to protect and hide. She moved her head as though she were looking at her…

And then she was back. What was that? The stone would lead to more beasts, and it was the job of a hunter to hunt beasts—and her job to help them, right?

Yes, she was right in taking the stone. She moved away from Gehrman and called the little ones.

"Give this to the good hunter. There are more beasts she must hunt."

 **Updates will be 22/02/2017 pr 02/22/2017 they will take the normal ten days as before until chapter 15 that will take twenty days to be updated**

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	11. Chapter 11

**I probably had a very clever or intelligent ting to say in this author note...recently i decide to go watch ''Manchester by the Sea'' as it was a nominated for the Oscar and some people that i know had talked to me that was a great movie. Of course it was a bit tricky to find a cinema that was showing this film but i managed to find one more or less close to where I live. Well the place where the cinema was strange it wasn't in a Shopping or in the street but in a museum so yeah i go to the this museum and bought the ticket for a very cheap price.**

 **Of course why I am telling this story to any of you? I don't know why. When the film would began I entered the place where was going to show...i cannot call that place a movie theater it was a place with maybe thirty armchairs in a very odd position and a small screen where the movie would show. It didn't stop there as the movie began it wasn't showing the ''trailers'' or ''marketing'' no of course not the first thing was a advertising to go to the museum exposition with epic music playing as showing the museum options. It is strange to see words like the place where the president lived appearing as a epic music played it or come to the museum to enjoy architecture from the beginning of the** **20th century with epic music.**

 **Then after this marvelous piece of advertising there was one about what not do in the cinema, with just words no popcorn's singing the instructions just words that was quite refreshing. My only problem was when it detailed what do in cause of fire saying that automatic sprinkles would activate and the fire brigade would arrive quickly. Because you see the place where the movie was showed hadn't sprinkles neither alarms in case of fire only a ceiling made in the** **20th century... they said that in epic music it stay on your head**

 **Of course all of this wasn't the best part, the best part was when it started to tell who protected the place in cause of accidents or fire. It wasn't a insurance company of course not the one that protect this place was** **Mary, mother of Jesus. It is not a joke a picture of a statue of her showed on the screen saying that the place was protected by her... in the defense of the museum there was a church close by that was dedicated to her but nonetheless it was the better part of the movie.  
**

 **Now to the story**

How does one define perfection? To many, it's impossible. Perfection is something people are always looking for, but never managing to achieve, resulting in an eternal search. But for others, perfection is real and present in their lives. These rare beings have almost reached another state of being, as they had achieved perfection, because what existed beyond that?

That was the situation the hunter was in. This moment was nirvana, and she was receiving perfection. Something that tasted so delicious and fulfilling that she never wanted to leave; she just wanted to taste more and more. The amount of time she spent in the proximity of her Queen when she tasted the blood was unknown, but in those moments she didn't care about the hunt, or anything else. Only the blood.

But as with all good things, the perfection had to stop. The Queen removed her hand from the hunter's mouth, and the hunter stayed there, tasting the last dregs of the blood, looking for any scraps between her teeth with her tongue, trying to get one more taste. The Queen stood looking at her knight. She looked like someone that she'd met a long time ago, during her walks in the castle. People incorrectly presumed that the Queen of the Vilebloods only stayed in the throne room, when she actually enjoyed moving around the castle. She didn't just sit in her throne. Back in the glory days, there was constant movement in her castle, and she was among it. She moved to see how her subordinates were doing, if they were following her orders, and if their loyalty was still with Cainhurst.

As the commoners said, the cattle fattened in the eye of the owner. She was fairly certain she'd met someone that looked quite similar to her faithful knight. It was in the yard, a long time ago, when she'd been going to see if the captain of the guard was doing his job. He was new to being in charge, and she wanted to show up unannounced to see if he was following her orders. During the walk to the chief of the guard, she passed through the yard of her caste. It was usually empty, but there was someone training in the yard. A girl, a teenager to be exact, trying and failing to use two swords at the same time. It was quite difficult, considering the weight of the blades as well as the strength required to carry and swing them. Only a small number of her knights fought that way. Most were content to use a pistol or a two-handed weapon. That the girl was even trying was a show of persistence. She might make a good knight in the future, she thought as she looked at the girl. She stayed there for a time, then she decided to move—no more delays. But before she could, the girl looked at her and the Queen saw her eyes, and face, they were same as her knight. She couldn't see her hair, but the rest of her body was covered in a white cloak. Perhaps her knight was a child of this girl that disappeared soon after. They said she'd gone to fight the beasts, and different rumors said that a hunter had fallen in love with her, but the rumors stopped there.

This was, of course, just curiosity. She wouldn't tell her knight, because she had no reason to. The girl was already doing her task, and very well, according to the increasing number of blood dregs she was receiving. Her knight bowed to her and left, and the queen waited as she'd grown accustomed to doing...strange. It felt like she was listening to the sound of gunshots, but it was just the wind, as always. Who else would come here?

* * *

"Ah hah hah ha! Ooh! Majestic! A hunter is a hunter, even in a dream. But, alas, not too fast! The nightmare swirls and churns unending!"

She was getting tired of him and this place. The enemies resurrected, dropped no blood, and this so-called Micolash was running away from the fight. She killed him instead of a corpse, and the blood that she deserved wasn't what she got. She got nothing. The body just disappeared, and she was now looking for him. She'd managed to find him, but he ran away and locked himself in a room, so now she looked for a way to access it. A key, a lever, anything.

According to the doll, Gehrman was indisposed, but she passed the information along. She said this was a nightmare created by the school of Mensis, trying to talk to outer beings. The Doll lost her when she tried to explain the school and its motives. She was a hunter, and she was supposed to hunt beasts, not dodge a giant brain that caused her mind to explode, not to mention the other weird creatures. Odder than the normal beasts, and that wasn't even counting the conglomerate of corpses that gave her chills. It killed her over and over again, and then she stopped feeling fear, only contempt. The amount of blood she'd ingested was amazing, not like her queen provided but still good. But in the end, she didn't have a choice, according to the information that the Doll had provided. Her final objective was at the top of the strange castle, for lack of a better word.

She dodged another one of the things, pieces of corpses united until they looked almost like puppets, and moved forward toward a set of stairs. Killing the things was useless, as they always resurrected. She paused at a fork in the path, then took the right and dodged more of the things. As she reached another passage, she heard something. "—ur brains, to cleanse our beastly idiocy."

Micolash. The beast had a sound that she could identify anywhere, a loud screeching voice. She'd reached a small room with a hole in the middle, and as she looked down it she could see him there, praying. She prepared the Chickage, put it in transformed mode, and performed a plunging attack.

It was perfect. The blade entered the middle of his neck and the left shoulder, digging into the chest and cutting the heart, part of the left lung, and lower. The blood on the weapon usually caused a type of rapid poisoning that took a fair number of hits to induce, but in this situation the blood was enough. If the beast that the hunter was fighting was a cleric beast, a stupid spider or a conglomerate of corpses, they would keep fighting. They had tons of blood in their corpses, as she knew from ingesting it, or the power of the blood would keep the body in a previous transformation that would regenerate them.

Of course, they'd become weaker, but they would keep fighting. In the case of Micolash, however…he wasn't a particularly strong man, nor had he injected much blood in his veins to avoid falling to beasthood. As the temptation was smaller for him, and forgotten in the wake of his obsession over communicating with the Old One, which made him quit Byrgenwerth and form his own school. The cost of the communication was a nightmare world, one in which Micolash was the host, as he was the most capable of communicating, or perhaps because he led the school of Mensis.

In the end, it didn't matter. As the host of the nightmare, Micolash gained the power to control not just the place, but to a certain extent, the Old One they'd encountered. It wasn't yet full-fledged, but just a child and a giant brain. The brain was apparently an Old One, just one that was rotten and dying. He didn't know where he'd come from, or why just looking at him induced frenzy in individuals, so stronger it materialized in the form of arrows piercing the being. First, he constructed a castle that wasn't properly built. He thought about it, and it materialized. Second, he put the child Old One at the top, or some force did, something he was very afraid of. Then he constructed beings to protect the child, straight from his nightmares. Spiders, puppets, and sometimes legends, such as the shadows of Yharnam that he'd put on top of the castle, closer to the baby. He asked for his creations to take the brain and put it in a position that overlooked the entirety of the castle and its outsides. Strangely, he was forced to construct it in a way that the path to the baby couldn't be barricaded. Doors and passages always surged and led there. He could limit it to just one, but not get rid of them.

After all of this, Micolash assumed his post to protect the baby, to nurture him and grant him the evolution of man, as he was a good servant. Being the host of the nightmare, some might think the task would be easy, as he had control. He could just create a thousand creatures to throw at the invader, or eliminate him by burning or even exploding him. It wasn't so easy. First he was bound to a certain set of rules. He didn't know who was creating them, but they only appeared when he tried to do something that was against them. He simply couldn't do certain things, and when he ran up against that, he thought it must just be one of the rules.

Still, he was more confident in the complicated way to get to him than fighting himself, as sustaining everything in the castle demanded quite a bit of power. Any power used to protect the child was worth it, however. As he had less power to defend himself, a copy of him would fight the invader first, then he would lock himself in a special room while his creations killed the invader, as resurrecting them didn't take much power.

He didn't have any problems fighting solo. He wasn't afraid of dying, as he was still in a nightmare and when he died he would just wake up and do it all over again. The problem was he was bad at fighting. He didn't know how to use weapons of any kind, just his fist and some instruments to call help to the Old Ones. In the end, he never expected to fight someone. That was why he'd been so unprepared for the appearance of the hunter. He didn't think she would reach him, and the nightmare wasn't connected to him anymore. His death wouldn't destroy the unborn Old One. This was why Micolash, the Founder of the School of Mensis and one of the few to contact an Old One and survive with his mind relatively intact, died with a blade cutting through his body.

Some might say he deserved it, as the Mensis school was responsible for kidnappings and murders throughout Yharnam. Maybe saying that Micolash had a harsh life, being born poor in an orphanage in a faraway town, he wanted to study and prove to others what he could do. Maybe he did everything he could to see a certain person again, a certain vacuous spider that, previous to her ascension, was his colleague at Byrgenwerth and his only friend, and the only way to see her again was to ascend. Maybe because he was so obsessed with proving to others that he was worth something, he didn't have a problem killing people to achieve his objective, to ascend and finally show that he had done something. The poor, mocked child had done something. What, in the end, was Micolash? A child trying to prove his worth? A tragic romantic, trying to talk to his love? A cruel monster that wanted to be something greater and would do anything to accomplish that, even evolution? Maybe all of those or maybe no one. Maybe just another madman killed by a hunter. In the end, it didn't matter. The hunt must go on.

* * *

Micolash had a lot of blood, but no blood dregs. Disappointing, to be sure. She now only had one, that she'd collected from someone on her way to him. One was good…she wouldn't be able to taste heaven for a time, but at least a taste. She was impatient. When was the last time she'd had some? It didn't matter; too much time already. The Doll had taken some to channel the blood echoes, a ton of them. She was strange lately. One of the times she'd approached the Doll, she was smiling. She was capable of moving her lips beyond opening them to speak?

When the Doll has stood up, the hunter didn't wait for her to say the words as she normally did. She needed to find the queen right away. When she'd gone to the tombstone to meet her queen, she felt something tugging at her leg. She pointed the gun towards it before she looked, more out of instinct than anything else. But it was only the messengers, holding on to her pant leg. They did that when they wanted to give her something, but her thirst was growing and she didn't have time for this…however, they would bother her for a long time if she didn't accept. She crouched, and the messengers started to dance. "Hurry up," she said, and they stopped. One of them extended something towards her, and she took it and put it in her pockets. She would see it after, she decided, and proceeded to meet the queen.

The hunter seemed as though she were in a hurry. Surely she wanted to end this hunt as quickly as possible. She was zealous about her job, which was a good characteristic for a hunter, according to Gehrman. Strange. That anger? Again? Just by remembering Gehrman, she felt the rage; the reason didn't even matter. She had taken the "stone" from him, and she supposed she should feel "shame" for doing so without permission, but instead she felt strangely happy. She was helping the hunter. That had to be why, right?

She preferred to help the hunter, rather than Geh—she didn't want to feel the anger every time she said his name…he had asked her to move him to the garden, saying that he couldn't look at the hunter again, that she looked too much like someone. He wanted her to tell the hunter to meet him when the time was right.

Now that the hunter was far away, she would read the books again, to search for more of the feelings and to understand them. This time, she studied a strange word, one strongly connected to anger: revenge. Such a strange word. What did it mean?

She got up. The lamp was at her side, and she was surrounded by statues of Church symbols that, according to her queen, had been put there to bless the place. They called the presence of the Vilebloods a curse that needed to be washed up and cast out. Of course, it didn't work, as the queen continued to exist, along with the castle residents—the ghosts, the servants, the gargoyles. Unfortunately, they'd all gone mad; they always were when they were born out of massacre. The consequence was being unable to recognize the hunter as a Vileblood. To them, all newcomers were enemies, and in the back of their minds was the notion that newcomers had killed everybody, so they wouldn't allow them to do that again.

Thank the good blood, she didn't need to walk through the castle and fight those things again. It was tough, and they had bad blood, too old and dirty. Now she had to meet her queen, but…instead of her figure sitting proudly in her chair, ready to give her more, there was blood. Blood everywhere. The chair was destroyed, and only a lump of flesh bubbling as though it were alive remained.

She always thought the blood of her queen would smell as amazing as it tasted, but apparently it only happened when it was removed from her body immediately. She was shocked as she cautiously approached the lump of flesh. What would she do? Without her queen, where would she find that amazing blood again? Still lost in thought, she moved to the front of the destroyed chair. The lump of flesh continued to bubble. Was this what immortality, being the undead queen, meant? The queen couldn't be killed, was that why the flesh still moved? How long would it take for her to come back? Could she even come back? She was in tiny pieces, the lump smaller than even her hand; might there be a limit to how much she could regenerate? Now what would she do? The thirst would only increase and increase and nothing would sate it; she would never taste heaven again.

She took the lump of flesh. Maybe Gehrman would know what to do. She summoned the messengers and gave it to them. She would return and ask him, even if he'd disappeared. According to the Doll, he was preparing for the end of the hunt, but she didn't know what that meant. He had to know what to do, right? She couldn't live without it. She would go crazy for thirst. It was already bad…

If the hunter hadn't been in so much shock, she would have noticed the footsteps. The sound of metal grinding on metal, the classic signal of a hunter. When the figure, clothed in executioner garb and a gold Ardeo had shown up at the top of the stairs in front of her, she would have seen it. But she was too confused to notice anything around her. Only when the executioner spoke did she snap out of her trance.

"What's good about the immortality of your queen? Regenerate from that, you monster. I smashed, pounded and ground your filthy queen to a pink pulpy flesh, with all of her insides out. Just like I'll do to you, Vileblood."

The hunter looked at him now. She knew that voice. It was Alfred. When he looked at her and saw her face, he took a step back, but quickly recovered and started to laugh. "You've changed quite a bit since I last met you, hunter. Of course, how stupid could I be? Ha! The first hunter in years appears in front of me, a miracle that can save the city. What a fool I was for believing it was a miracle." His voice grew steadily angrier. "You aren't a miracle, you're a creation of the Vileblood, sent to spy, right? _Right?_ "

The hunter, still shocked, tried to stammer out an answer. "No, I—"

He screamed, laughing. "That explains everything. How you didn't know anything about the city. You faked it to make me lower my guard in front of you, but I didn't. So you came back with your tail between your legs asking for help for your decadent queen. And your eyes! Of course! How didn't I notice? Only one person has had this eye color before, and she was a traitor, but you faked it well. Very well. I only now noticed what kind of blood you used to do it…"

"What do you mean, my ey—"

"Your lies don't matter, filthy Vileblood. I will end your tarnished line this night and make Logarius a Martyr. I will."

He jumped at her, brandishing his wheel as a club, in a high arc down to where she dodged and prepared a counterattack. If he wanted a fight, she would give him one. She moved closer, her Reissenplatch in rapier form _because it would draw more blood_ , and saw he was open on the right. Instead of trying to dodge or counter the attack, he moved the Ludwig rifle below his right arm and shot. While she was stunned by the shot, he moved his wheel horizontally to the right, and the force of the movement sent the hunter flying and falling on the set of stairs leading up to the throne.

She got up immediately, and saw him moving the wheel in her direction horizontally. How was he capable of moving such a heavy weapon one-handed and effortlessly? She dodged the hit and moved to attack him, and she began to _imagine how good his blood would taste_ but before she could touch him she was shot, and the wheel came again, this time hitting her and sending her flying at one of the statues. She got up again. He was fast, and faster with the gun. She needed to get him in the back, as he wouldn't have a way to respond _and more importantly, the blood on the back had a very peculiar taste, one that she loved_. He was jumping at her with the wheel, and she dodged to the side as it hit the place where she'd been, destroying the statue and the ground. She dodged a shot again, and managed to move to his back and began to charge a thrust, _charged attacks always produced more blood_. He wouldn't have time to react, but he quickly turned, his wheel opening with a red mist, hitting the hunter and sending her backwards. Before she could understand what was happening, something hit her left arm and once again she was thrown into another statue.

So it appeared that even when she attacked his back, he would manage to counter it. She stood while injecting a blood vial; she couldn't trade as he was obviously stronger than her, and neither could she attack head-on as he would stun her and let the wheel finish the job; _until now she hadn't made him spill a single drop of blood._ Her other problem was his speed. He was too fast for someone carrying such massive weaponry. The Ludwig rifle was heavy on its own, and the wheel was a massive piece of wood. Staying in close range was her best chance. The wheel could deal massive damage, but it needed room to maneuver for the attack to actually cause damage. If she stayed close to him, he wouldn't have time to prepare attacks. She would have to take the damage from his rifle; it was the only way _and what a good way it would be—bloody, quick strikes always made her want more, an appetizer before the main course._

She looked around. He was close to her, just on top of the small set of stairs, observing her. She would need to jump close to him, but maintain her distance as well. She'd deliver the damage with the transformed Reissenplatch, as the Chickage wouldn't be enough in this situation. It usually absorbed blood, but she wanted to taste his blood. It would be a delicacy, much better than Djura's had been, and she wanted to taste everything before she killed him. It had been good, but the blood of someone who'd killed so many beasts would be so much better.

She jumped closer as he moved, the wheel landing in front of him, then she dodged to the right, towards his gun. Evading the shot, she moved closer to him, and took the next shot he sent her way, prepared to unleash a succession of hits. Yes, the blood would come, and it would be so tasteful…but nothing was coming. She'd delivered five or six slashes with nothing. Well, she would need more then. Before she could think about it, she felt something strong hit her face, and she stumbled back. Another hit landed on her left side and she went flying again. She injected a blood vial as her face needed to heal, as well as her left arm and probably her ribs. She saw the wheel coming towards her and didn't have time to dodge. It hit her in the chest, breaking several of her ribs, and though she managed to dodge the next hit, she still took a shot.

She rolled away from him, as he was already prepared to deliver an attack, and managed to get up. Her whole chest hurt, and she was sure that her lungs were pierced somewhere based on how much it hurt to breathe. She was going to inject another blood vial, but he was already unleashing another horizontal attack; she ducked to roll away and he responded by shooting her and returning with a wheel attack, sending her to the ground again.

He jumped at her with the wheel, intending to end this fight, but she shot at him while rolling to the side. He was unfazed by the shot, but even worse, the bullet simply bounced off him and fell to the ground. He moved the wheel again to finish her, but she rolled away, every inch of her in pain. But she couldn't stop, because the Crow Hunter had told her that if he killed her, she wouldn't resurrect. She finally got away from him, her back to the throne room, and injected three blood vials as he prepared to advance. He didn't try to stop her from healing herself, or pressure her to move, but why? She looked over at him, and she could see what had hit her face when he'd slammed his head against her. The gold Ardeo was filled with blood, and his clothes were shredded in the front, revealing armor…

But that was impossible, totally impossible. Armor in Yharnam was considered suicide to hunters, heavy and clunky to use. A hunter that used them would be slow against beasts that wouldn't have any trouble breaking the armor apart. Of course, it did have its own fighting style, trading blows, but it was ridiculous here, as the beasts were always stronger, and it was impossible to trade punches with a cleric beast.

The only ones she knew that used armor were the Knights of Cainhurst. According to her queen, they were special Vilebloods tasked with capturing prey for the queen. That was why they used armor—keeping someone alive was much harder than killing them. Still, even though they were trained to use the armor, they were still slow. They used the armor to capture, not to fight. The queen herself had offered it to her, but it was too heavy and would slow her down during a fight—it was a popular saying among them, _a slow hunter is a dead hunter_. Even worse, the Knights' armor couldn't stop bullets or other attacks. It would drastically reduce the impact, but without the chance to move out of the way there was no chance of completely denying an attack.

The armor Alfred used had to be extremely heavy to be able to parry every attack, and besides that he moved incredibly fast and carried the heaviest weapons in the hunters' arsenal. How was he even able to move? How strong was he? The speed at which he was moving should have been impossible. What kind of monster was he? She needed to do something. Try to talk him down. Show him the futility of his fight. Executioner and Vileblood were the same; she wasn't an Executioner because she didn't want to be controlled by the church. She would tell him that. He was just a tool, one the church used to control the city.

"Why are we fighting?" Alfred stopped for a moment, and she could swear he was confused by her statement.

"Because you're a filthy, disgusting Vileblood and an enemy to the Church. As such, I must remove your stain from the world."

Yes. An opening. Time to show him the truth. "Who said that I was an enemy, or a stain?"

"You are enemies to the Church and, as such, a stain to the world." With this she could tell she had him.

"The Church, right? I'm only an enemy of the Church, not others. We Vilebloods have been hunted because we had power, and the Church wanted all the power to themselves. An Executioner is only a tool to make sure the Church has all the power. Vilebloods are innocent. We only hunt fallen hunters and beasts, not people."

He stood motionless for a moment, then put his left hand on his wheel and started to move. The wheel opened, red mist emitting from the middle. He began to walk in her direction. She had nowhere to run—behind her was a window, and if she dodged to the sides he would catch her, since she hadn't brought that old hunter bone. He'd probably figured out by now that he was a tool, and he was angry. She just needed to convince him that this was useless, and he could break the Church's control.

"You don't need to be their tool. Join us. The two of us are the same, except you're controlled and—"

 **"TELL ME WHO KILLED THEM!"**

He was close now, and screaming. "Who is 'them?'" she asked, and he gave the wheel another turn.

 _ **"WHO KILLED THEM? WHOHUNG THEM LIKE PIGS IN A SLAUGHTERHOUSE?"**_

"I don't know…"

He attacked her with two hands, and though she tried to dodge to the left, he moved fast and blocked her way, still screaming. **_"_ IT WASN'T THE CHURCH THAT TREATED THEM LIKE PIGS!"**

She took a step back, still left with little room to maneuver. He attacked and she dodged to the right, but he was there again with another attack. She tried to use the Reissenplatch to defend, but she was sent back a few steps, as his weapon was now in pieces. Her back was against the stained glass and he stood right in front of her, a bit calmer than before. "It wasn't the Church that killed them and hung them like pigs so they could extract more blood. It was your kind. Vilebloods. And you must pay."

Before she could react or even think the wheel was above his head, and the explosion was huge. She was sent flying, breaking the glass behind her and hitting the roof. She kept moving, falling again and again. She could see the wall of the castle flying before her eyes, then the sensation of hitting the ground. Water entered her vision, and she blacked out.

* * *

The beaches of Yharnam, and the docks, were filthy, as dirty as the sewers. The only ones that weren't like this were in the Forbidden Forest (of course, since walking in there was suicide) and Hemlock Channel Lane. The beach in the latter was a curious thing—the currents made sure every dejected thing was sent there, including the things from a certain castle. One was leaving the beach now, injecting blood vials, her clothes tattered and dirty. Her hat had been washed away when she hit the water. She needed to get back to the dream. The closest lamp was in Odeon Chapel, and she had to think about…

As she left the beach, she looked at her reflection in one of the puddles. It was foggy, and she needed to hurry, because she didn't want to fight beasts in the fog. She still looked like her normal self—short black hair, silver eyes, pale skin. Nothing out of the ordinary. So why had he said her appearance changed? Maybe because she had become a Vileblood, which he saw as murd….well, she would think about that in the dream, not here. She continued to walk, and she felt water dripping down onto her back. By the good blood, she thought, looking up at the sky, the clouds threatening on the horizon, it was starting to rain.

It took some time to walk to the chapel. She was able to dispatch the beasts she encountered quickly with the Chickage, which thankfully hadn't been lost at sea, unlike most of her blood vials. She only had four left. Evelyn's bullets were all lost, but thankfully she could use her blood to make more if the need arose.

Now she could see the Amygdala that rested on the top of the Chapel. They were different from the ones in the lost village, and they weren't hostile—this one just stood there. She could kill it for blood, but their blood always felt strange, unpleasing. She decided only to kill it if it was necessary to advance the hunt. The one in the nightmare had trapped her and forced her to fight, but in the end she just got a chalice for the chalice dungeons. She would have preferred a weapon, or even some blood from the queen….

She entered the chapel through the main entrance, and there was blood. Blood everywhere—the stairs, the floor, the walls. Some beast must have entered the chapel, but how? The incense should have forced them away. To the right, there were pieces of a destroyed chair, where the grumpy woman had sat. She walked towards the stairs, trying to figure out what had happened here. The stairs were drenched in blood as well, and she walked carefully so as not to slip on it. The place where Arianna had been was empty, and the urns that once held incense were destroyed. The place wasn't protected anymore. Maybe she had escaped, but in the place where the creepy man had been was…a desecrated body. She couldn't tell what part was what, because it only looked like meat and broken bones. Whatever had happened here, it must have taken the hate of the creepy man. No insane beast could do that amount of damage. She crouched next to the remains, noting a metallic shine. When she pushed away the mess, she found a blunderbuss—an old one, one that used gunpowder. Yharnam had stopped using gunpowder decades ago. It was damaged, and claw marks gouged the sides, the mount destroyed. He must have found a way to defend himself, and used it against the attacker. That would explain the blood. Maybe he'd gotten off a lucky shot?

The weapon only confirmed that a beast killed the people, but how had it entered, or even found the place? There were no beasts that left claw marks near only the strange tall men, and no beast could climb a ladder, so it must not have come from the back. But she shouldn't care about these things. She had to prepare to kill Alfred. His blood would be so sweet. She hadn't managed a taste, but next time she would drink her fill. She just needed to go back to the dream and arm herself.

"Hunter! Hunter, a great tragedy has occurred here. A beast entered and attacked everyone…" She looked for the source of the voice—the beggar she'd met in the forest. How he was alive, she couldn't say, but now she needed to go back to the dream and prepare for the revival of her queen. It was essential that she was alive, and that she tracked down Alfred and killed him and drank hi marvelous blood…

She stood. The beggar was still talking as she prepared to enter the dream, but something caught her attention. Usually, the thirst would stop her from noticing things, because she could only focus on getting blood, but this beggar was drenched in it. She could smell it, and it was more than one being's, a few at least. The thirst was enormous, and looking for something to sate it. Anything. Even a beggar. If he smelled this good, he must taste better…

She removed the Chickage out of its sheath and did a quick attack. She expected the beggar to die, so she could enjoy his blood, but…what had she done? She'd just killed someone for blood. He wasn't even a beast—just a beggar, and she killed him without mercy or hesitation…

But the beggar didn't collapse on the floor. He exploded. She stepped back quickly, and in his place was a hulking beast, twice as tall as her, with fur that stuck out and sparked with electricity. He turned his red eyes to her and started to advance, claws raised to strike her. Her mind stopped worrying as her thirst took control, and she dodged the attack, slashing the beast immediately evading his next attack as well—then he spoke. "Have you gone mad? Attacking an innocent beggar without reason? How did you discover…."

He performed a series of quick attacks with his arms, and she dodged the first and moved to his back to deliver some hits. The blood wasn't good, but it would be better than nothing. He continued as he turned to strike her. "Or is it the beast inside of you, churning for blood?"

"Silence, beast." She ducked as a claw passed over her head and slashed at its body. It was angry at her words, and slammed the ground as it roared. She was thrown away by the blast, but managed to get up in the side passage she was in and inject a blood vial, walking towards the small courtyard. Better to fight outside, less obstacles there. She wanted to take caution. His blood would sate something, at least.

It was already running, and she dodged to the left and attacked him several times. He did a swipe attack, which she evaded but it wasn't done, continuing to swipe at her as she jumped back, waiting for an opening. When she saw one in the left, she did the same, and the beast put its arms on top of its head—a slam. An opening. She moved to escape the blast and attacked, digging through flesh. The blood wasn't good, but the slam hit, and she'd been wrong about how much it would hurt her. Electricity coursed through her veins as she stepped back and tried to inject a blood vial. The beast advanced, screaming "Die, hunter, _DIE!_ " as he slammed the ground and tried to corner her. "Hunters are killers! Nothing else! Your kind doesn't protect, only kill, and you choose that! And you call me a beast! _ME!_ I didn't choose this! I didn't ask for any of this! But you did!"

She dodged yet another attack, already down to two blood vials. He was taking a lot of hits, and she knew he must have a lot of blood. How many times had she danced around, dodging him? The Amygdala was surely tiring of watching this fight. He came towards her with a running swipe, and she ducked under his arm and slashed him as he swiped at her again. And so it continued, until he tricked her with a hook. She didn't have time to get away. She was thrown in the sky, and a fist hit her, pinning her to the ground. She shot at its face, and it backed up a little, distracted by the pain, putting his other hand in front of his face to block further damage.

Exactly what she wanted. She dug the Chickage into his arm, and the beast screamed as he released her. She removed the katana and rolled to put some distance between them. The beast stopped and prepared another swipe. This was getting dangerous. Dodging and injecting a blood vial wasn't enough, and she had to do it twice. She was out of blood vials now, and the beast with its garbage blood was still alive. If she died, she would return to the dream, but that wasn't an option. This beast always finished her prey. "Die, you beast!" she yelled in frustration.

"Oh, am I the beast?" it answered. "And what about you? Look at your face! You're happy to drink my blood, yet you dare call me beast? You drink the blood of half the town and attack someone without reason! You hunters are the real beasts." She wasn't a beast. Just a Vileblood, which prevented her from becoming addicted to blood and killing. She would show him. She put the Chickage on its sheath and removed it. She could feel the blood draining from her—she would have to be quick.

It tried to swipe, the same dance as before, but she was faster, and slashed at his chest. He stumbled in pain and tried to defend itself with its arms, tired from the fight and low on blood. She slashed at its arms, hurting him even more, and when he dropped them she thrust right through his chest, where the heart was. It screamed in pain, and she thought for sure it was dead, but it held her shoulders in its arms and crushed them, digging its claws deep inside. It tried to finish her with a bite, but it coughed blood and released her. They both fell to the ground. She wanted the pain to stop. She could feel her shoulder healing, but it wasn't enough. Using the transformed Chickage, combined with this, had put her in too much pain.

The beast was still alive, crawling towards her as it coughed, and she got up slowly as it gained speed. She ran to the middle of the tombstones, but it continued, breaking them as he went. She was close to the tree now, and she only had Evelyn, no bullets. She sighed, creating bullets with some of the last of her power. She felt the draining, and she was on the brink of death, but she would kill this beast. It was close, and she started to shoot it in the face, getting off about three shots before one of its arms slashed at her. She barely escaped the slow attack, and shot at it twice more.

It tried to attack again, but fell to the ground, dying after saying "Blood-seeking beasts…that's what we are…every one of us…" The hunter breathed a sigh of relief before—

Something grabbed her. She tried to free herself, but to no avail. The Amygdala. It had caught her, and now it would crush her as it had done before next to the unseen village entrance—but instead, it simply looked at her, and she could hear a voice, one that sounded so much like the doll…

"Curse their fiends, their children too, and the children of their children, forever true…"

 **Update in 04/03/17 or 03/04/17**

 **Review, favorite or follow because I don't know... it make me happy?**

 **удачи**


	12. Chapter 12

**I am actually a bit** **disappointed** **about my last chapter,I reveal a problem that I have with my writing. I don't plan my stories,or future chapter only the next one and as such is difficult to put plot twists. As a good plot twist need a lot clues and tips, this is kinda impossible to me as I probably only know what chapter 13 will be about ahead of that I haven't a single clue.**

 **Beta By Bellum Gerere**

She opened her eyes. This death had hurt immensely; her bones had been destroyed by the intense pressure. It was horrible. She hated…well, she hated dying, but at least some of her deaths were relatively painless. One flash of pain, and then she woke in the dream. Some, like poison or blood loss, were awful, and always took too much time and pain. Better one huge flash than the continuous pain over a long period of time. That was the problem with this death, being squeezed. It took a while, and the pain was incredible; even worse, she could feel every bone breaking, each one ceding to the pressure of the Amygdala's hand crushing her.

Now she would have to get back her blood echoes, but...she wasn't in the dream. She was in Odeon Chapel. She got up and looked around. Strange. There wasn't a passage to the left, and the right door was closed. What had happened here? Had someone brought her here and healed her? That didn't make sense. She'd died so many times she knew how it felt. Even if she hadn't died, someone would have had to scrub the floor to get rid of the blood—

They were all dead. That beast had killed them, all of the people in the chapel. The chapel dweller had tried to shoot at him but was butchered by the beast. At least she'd killed the beast, but how had the beast killed them? And how did it know there were survivors there? The place was just for the hunt, yet here they were dead…and she had led him right to them, she realized. She'd told the beast—because it asked, and she didn't care about the man, the suspicious position he was obviously in and the fact that his pupils had collapsed, a sure sign of beasthood. She'd seen it and hadn't cared, because she had more important things to look at, right? It was for the hunt.

They were dead. When the grumpy man died, she didn't care. Even through all the signs the beast had given her, the man's warning, she was more interested in the door below the Church Hunter's Workshop, in finding weapons and only that…right? It was for the hunt.

But they were dead, and when she found them she didn't care. She only looked for the beast. It was for the hunt.

But it wasn't for the hunt. Nothing that she did was for the hunt. It was for her, for the Queen, to gain more of that blood and power for the hunt…it was never for the hunt, never. It was for the queen. The blood, the delicious sensation and the thirst. She didn't care about the beast when she met him because the thirst made her move quickly, searching for something to appease it. She started to hunt hunters for more of it, even attacking old and retired hunters like Djura, and what had motivated her? The thirst for the queen's blood. It didn't matter. In the end, she transformed into what she feared: a beast. She was addicted to blood, only caring about finding more of it. She didn't look for more weapons, but for more blood. She'd become a beast; she looked for the Vilebloods to prevent her transformation but in the end she'd become what she feared. The point of that was that when she'd attacked the beast, she didn't know at first that it was a beast. She did it to reduce the thirst, not because she suspected him. She would kill an innocent for her own gain, without a problem. How was she any different from beasts?

How long had she been in this town? Just a night, one that didn't seem to end. Was she still herself? Now she killed people without a thought or a care; she didn't care about others, only the hunt. She had just come here for a blood transfusion, then for the joy of helping others and saving the town from a "plague." Now she would be happy to just get out and try and forget what had happened…but if she did get out, would there still be something of her left? She still cared about weapons and…what? She wasn't just a weapons fanatic, she liked other things like…she didn't remember anymore. Everything paled in comparison to the blood she'd ingested. She could only remember the blood. She liked to…she didn't know what she liked beyond the hunt and weapons. The blood had made her recall the thrill of the hunt, the joy of slaying a beast. Had she always been like this, serious and focused, or was she something else? Timid and agitated, or cheerful and happy? She could be any of those things, but being in this town had removed all that. The hunt had molded her in just one night. Everything was corroded by the town; everything she liked or remembered was the part of the hunt. What was left of who she'd been before?

She didn't feel the thirst anymore. It was strange, as if her thoughts were cleared after a long time, but why? And, more importantly, was it worth it before? With the thirst, she didn't know the truth, and it was better than realizing you are a monster. She needed to end this hunt. The lamp wasn't where it normally was, and there was no back entrance to the chapel. Strange. Perhaps she'd been transported to somewhere new while she was dead? A creepy tall woman had taken her to the Hidden Village before, blocking the lamps until she'd escaped. Maybe this was the same situation.

She checked herself to gauge her supplies. She had nothing. No bullets, blood vials, weapons or firearms. She was practically naked. Any beast that found her would kill her with no problem. She had to find a weapon, any weapon, and quickly.

She exited the false Odeon Chapel and found herself in…the Cathedral Ward?

* * *

What had happened? The entire Cathedral Ward was made up of different pieces of soil that looked as if they were braided together above ground, making platforms held together by mountains of soil. The most important detail, though, was that the sun was up, as the place was very bright. Some of the things, like benches and lampposts, were in different positions, twisted and warped, or simply missing. Where was she? It looked like the Cathedral Ward, but a nightmare version…she had to be in a nightmare. The Amygdala had caught her close to the Hidden Village and taken her to a strange building, then a nightmare. This time, though, it brought her directly to the nightmare, but with no lamps, no weapons, and no notion of how to get out—and no thirst.

But first things first, she had to find a weapon and supplies, then look for a lamp, or any rational being that talked and could tell her where she was. She didn't matter what it looked like. She talked, for a time, to a spider with a human head, or a human with a spider body—but she was getting distracted. Where to go first? Up the hill or below it, through the tunnel it formed? If the place was the same layout, it would take her to the gate that led to the giant Cathedral. The last time she'd been there, the gate was closed, and she could see if it was open now by taking the hill up, which would give her a good view of the place.

So she climbed it. It wasn't an abrupt uphill, though the ground corded around lamps in the middle as though they'd been swallowed by the dirt. It curved and made a bridge, and as she was walking across it, a sound hit her ears that she was all too familiar with: the sound of beasts. In front of her were two ways to go: the left, to a dead end, and the right, forming a ramp. She jumped to the left, but hugged the ramp to the right, and after a moment she heard the sound again. It got louder and louder, and she stayed motionless. It was going where she had come, and when it was fading into the distance she would continue. There was another sound, though, a mechanical one followed by gunshots, and she sounds of a fight. Before she could understand what was happening, the corpse of a beast landed to her left. She looked at it, startled, but managed not to make a sound. The body was missing an arm, and was identical to the ones she'd found in Old Yharnam where she'd killed a hunter to feed her addiction…

The sound of footsteps increased as the fighting faded. Whatever had killed it was descending the ramp. She waited a bit before she looked, and saw the back of a tall being wearing clothes that she easily recognized as traditional hunter garb. Some kind of hunter? He carried a blunderbuss, and a slab of metal that she couldn't easily identify. She could try to talk to him, but she was in a strange place, unarmed and without supplies, and with no lamp close by there was a real chance that if she died, she wouldn't come back. She couldn't risk it. What if it was a fallen hunter? According to the Crow only she, Alfred and the hunter in Old Yharnam hadn't fallen, and she…she was supposed to be one of them, but after what she'd done.

The being walked away, and then she proceeded to move again, this time climbing over the ramp. She could see the gate closing the Cathedral Ward, and another one of the beings, which looked very similar to a hunter. She continued on her way, and wound up in—the graveyard of the Cathedral Ward? Half of it had been taken by the "ground" and the back entrance had disappeared, dropping away. The left entrance was closed, but the front one that led to the Great Cathedral was open. She could go that way, but she would have to descend, as the was higher. She could go right, but that was a perfect spot for an ambush, as she couldn't see the whole place. She might be jumped, and she would have trouble running away and disengaging the enemy. Better to stay in the giant graveyard; it would give her a better chance of dodging the beasts if she could see them from a distance.

She fell to the ground of the graveyard, greeted by the sound of beasts at her back. There were a huge number of them—more than twenty. Some hid behind the tombstones, or curled in the fetal position. She immediately turned to run, cursing herself for not taking the upwards way; it couldn't have been any harder than this one. As she was running, the number of beasts continued to grow, and when she reached the end of the graveyard she saw two of the "hunters" coming towards her. One carried the strange weapon, and the other wore similar attire with the addition of a top hat, and carried a massive hammer…and, of course, they were armed with blunderbusses. She was sure that they were beasts—their pupils were dilated and glowing. Two hunters in front of her and twenty beasts behind her. How did she manage to get herself in this situation?

She moved to the right, giving herself some space so maybe they wouldn't run at her as quickly. She thought she was doomed—but the two hunters ran past her and started to fight the beasts instead. It didn't make any sense. Beasts didn't fight among each other; if they did, there would be no need for hunters. The beasts fought savagely, but they were no match for the hunters. They killed quickly and efficiently, taking down multiple beasts with only a few hits.

The fight continued, and she noticed that the hunter with the top hat had let his blunderbuss fall to the ground, since his arm had been hit multiple times. A weapon! She ran towards it, following some beasts retreating from the top hat hunter's flammable weapon. If she survived, she would have to remember their fear of fire. She passed by one of them, so close to the blunderbuss, when the top hat hunter swung at her with his hammer, missing her head by only a few centimeters. She managed to grab the weapon, she drained her own blood to make a bullet and put it in the gun. She was weak; just one bullet had drained her. The hunter was already preparing another strike, and she only had one chance.

She shot, and nothing could match the satisfaction she felt as the hunter fell, his posture open. She prepared her hand and stuck it inside his guts, which were hotter than anything she'd felt besides fire. She grabbed inside and pushed. A huge amount of blood sprayed from him, too much for a being that didn't suffer a transformation. It fell to the ground and didn't move, and she picked up his weapon and armed herself with it. It was the boom hammer that she was holding, but she still couldn't figure out what the beasts were. They came against her now, and she hit the trigger of the hammer to ignite it. The beasts retreated as soon as they saw it. Now she only had to eliminate them and discover where she was.

* * *

Seven blood vials, two bullets, a boom hammer and a blunderbuss. That was all she'd found on the way to this place, but it was still better than nothing, which was what she'd started out with. She'd had to use four vials to kill the thing in front of the cathedral, some kind of possessed Executioner. She thought that maybe, if the lamp in Odeon Chapel hadn't been there, the one in the cathedral would be. It was a focal point for the Church, so there had to be a way out there—but instead there was a huge beast, sleeping in front of the altar. It held something in its left hand, and she glimpsed metal, but she couldn't tell what it was. Even stranger, it was burning, but the fire didn't consume it. It was a part of the beast. She'd seen Watchdogs in the catacombs that did that, but they were creations of the Old Ones, not beasts made by the fall of the blood. How had this happened?

She would get back—but she'd just used so many of her resources, she would at least see what it was holding. She walked forwards until she got so close that the heat of the flames hit her, and she knew they would burn her if she got much closer. She injected a blood vial in her left hand, then quickly stuck her hands in to grab the thing it was holding. The fire burned her at the same time as the blood healed her, but whatever it was was stuck. She gave a large push and managed to remove it from the beast's hand, tossing it immediately on the ground to cool down. She watched the blistered skin on her hands heal until it looked like they were never burned but some scars would continue in the skin, then looked around to find the object. Where had she tossed it away…?

He was wearing extremely well-worn and used clothes that looked basically like tarps stuck together; it was a miracle they hadn't fallen apart. They probably once had looked like hunter attire, and bandages over his hands and eyes that should have been white but were gray, and a lamp in his belt that looked just as worn as the rest of his attire. He cradled an object in his hands—the one that she'd picked up from the beast. But what was this being? A beast, a hunter, a fallen hunter? She would have to check his pupils, but with the bandages around his head…

"You have your sanity. Strange. A hunter with her sanity in this place…it seems as if those two words shouldn't be used together. Hunter and sanity. What brought you here, hunter? You take a wrong turn somewhere? It appears we have that in common." She was immediately suspicious. How had this man approached her without her notice? And the way he spoke…he was the only sane one she'd seen here—all of the others only attacked her without thought or hesitation—but she could trust his word? Of course not. She needed proof she wouldn't be fooled again

"Prove to me you're sane. That you haven't fallen to beasthood."

He continued to look at the object in his hands. "Yes, some beasts can talk, but as you can see, I am still a hunter." As he said this, he moved the bandage around one of his eyes, revealing an intact pupil. "As for my sanity, that is something I cannot prove. After all, I'm a hunter—and what sane person would be a hunter? Throw himself at beasts every night without thought or fear? That isn't the comportment of a sane person." She thought for a moment. He wasn't a beast, and he seemed sane enough. Perhaps she could get some information out of him, but she had to keep her guard up.

"Where are we? And why are there so many fallen hunters? Why does it look like the Cathedral Ward, with the ground bursting out?"

"We are in the Hunter's Nightmare, where hunters go when they end fallen to beasthood, or to the addiction of blood. You see them around, killing any beast that comes by, desperate for blood, or to enjoy the kill, but they can't. They don't take any pleasure in this place, or the hunger for blood. But they had already fallen, so they become addicted to these sensations. They seek them here in a never-ending hunt, trying to find things that don't exist here. This is a place of denial, hunter. Turn back. This place has nothing to look forward to. Turn back before it's too late." Well, that explained her lack of the thirst, but when she returned…

"I can't. An Amygdala grabbed me and I appeared here. I don't want to stay."

He looked up and tossed the object in his hands to her. She caught it: a pendant with an eye in the middle. She was open to attack, and she put up her blunderbuss in preparation, but he was simply looking at her. Unexpected. "I know a way out of here, hunter," he said. "It is connected to the pendant you picked up from our friend over there, Laurence."

Why were hunters always so confusing? There was no one here except them and the giant flaming beast—which she'd forgotten about. She looked back at it, expecting it to attack her, but it was still there, immobile. "Don't worry. Laurence won't attack us, for now. He's missing something, the same thing he missed when he was alive: a head."

Now that he mentioned it, it did look like a piece of the beast was missing. Strange. "Come with me. I'll show you the place where we can get away from this nightmare…"

He continued to walk and talk, and she had no choice but to follow him. What could happen?

* * *

She dodged the attack of the beast and retreated. It tried to follow with a thrust of its weapon, an old cutlass, but it was too slow—she was already delivering the killing blow with her hammer, destroying its head. She looked around for the fallen hunter that had been with the beast, but the strange hunter had already killed it. "Let's rest for a moment," he said. "We can't go much farther in this situation."

"Why? We have supplies, and we just injected some blood vials, so we aren't tired." He looked at her and put his right hand in his vest. She prepared herself, still suspicious. She didn't know how much time had passed in Yharnam; the moon changed phases until it became red, and everything had stopped making sense. He removed a package from his vest and threw it to her. She opened it, and inside was a series of tools for weapon repair.

"We hunters don't need to rest, but our weapons need some repairs. They're the ones that need rest. So fix your hammer. The fire was looking a bit weak in recent fights." That was true, it wasn't doing as much damage, and it had an easy mechanism to repair, but that would render her best weapon ineffective. She still had the blunderbuss, but its damage was nothing comparatively. The question was, did she trust him to stay in the open, to attack while she did her repairs? No, but she didn't have a choice. If she kept using the hammer the way it was, it would soon lose its ability to ignite. And besides, the place they'd stopped was fairly secure: only one entrance by the stairs, and two exits, the stairs themselves and a broken window they could fall through, so if any beasts showed up it would be easy to deal with them. It appeared to be a place of reunion; the room was littered with chairs and tables that she could use to support the weapon during the repairs. They'd come here in search of supplies, and according to the strange man, to see where the river of blood went, a river they were following for who knows how long.

She sat on a chair and put the hammer on the table. It creaked under the hammer's massive weight, and she proceeded to work quickly. There was nothing better than working on a weapon—no beasts, people, fears. The weapon didn't expect or demand anything, only that she worked. And it was fun to her to repair weapons; hunters were the best at it. Every hunter's weapon was different, so she loved seeing all the design choices. The Cainhurst weapons were so complex; in the mechanism, a trigger didn't simply make the blood interact with the bullet, ignite it and send it to the target. No, first it activated another mechanism that activated another, then they activated the bullet and the blood. It sounded like a waste of time and effort, not to make a trigger immediately effective, but it helped in the end. The materials and manufacturing were so good that it didn't matter. Perhaps they were more complex so they couldn't be imitated.

That could be, as the Powder Kegs had many weapons that looked like the Cainhurst ones, with simpler mechanisms and activations. They were rustic, and simply designed. The rifle spear was a trying copy of the Reissenplatch, a gun and sharp weapon at the same time. That was how she knew the weapon was made by the Powder Kegs. It had all the components, but had to be an earlier version. It was so simple, mixing the flammable component and then igniting it, with a strong metal that stayed incandescent as it was activated. It was so simple, it was so…

"Tell me, are you from the west? I'm certain." Somebody was talking to her. The strange hunter.

"West? What does that mean?"

"Simple. You came from west of Yharnam. I can tell by your accent. You pronounce the S in words as a C. Typically a Western accent."

"You're wrong. I came from the south of Yharnam, a city called Lozh, not the West." She returned to her weapon, fixing the trigger and tightening some screws, but he didn't stop.

"Interesting. It appears I've lost my talent with languages. A shame. Tell me, do you find the nightmares interesting?"

Strange. She never thought about them, besides that she fought strange beasts and couldn't find good blood. "Well, they are kind of interesting. They always have the most bizarre beasts. I don't know why they exist, or how they were made. Never thought about it."

"Typical of us hunters. Never thinking about or actions or consequences or the simple question of how. We only care about getting rid of the beasts, and everything else doesn't matter. How was a giant beast inside a sewer? Given no thought, except that it has to be killed. A simple train of thought, one can't argue with that, but let's save that for later. Tell me, where did you learn to work on weapons? You're clearly very skilled."

"I learned from my father. He hunted in the woods. He taught me how to clean and repair weapons." He was leaning on a wall, looking at her, and had put his hand on his chin. She only needed to tighten some more screws and she would be done.

"Can you feel?" There was a beast nearby? She put more speed into her actions, wondering how long it would be until it arrived. "Can you feel something in this nightmare?" Something strange again. What did he mean by these things?

"There's nothing. Just another nightmare. What else could it be?"

"Something heavy is here. The air is dense, and the place looks old. Everything is decaying. There's something in this nightmare, a secret, something that wasn't supposed to be discovered. Can't you sense it?" She stopped repairing the weapon and looked up at him.

"How do you sense that? How do you sense a secret? And what kind of secret would create a nightmare? By the good blood, how are nightmares even created?"

"Now you become inquisitive. But you've missed something. The truth of the secrets."

He hadn't fallen, but he was clearly crazy. "What did I miss?"

His gaze was intense. "Some are secrets for a reason, and they don't reveal the truth easily, even if one looks closely." He proceeded to look at the opening, probably watching their objective in the distance. She picked up her newly repaired weapon. Time had passed before coming to the city. She would never manage to carry this weight before, but now it was easy. How much had changed since she got here…but there was no time for memories. She had to get out of this place, and to do that she needed to follow the strange hunter.

* * *

"Go ahead, hunter. I'll take care of them." He was definitely crazy. There were two possessed executioners in the area in front of them, one carrying a giant cannon and the other waiting to the side. The ground was covered in blood, and there were strange stones popping out of it, with the same broken architecture. They hadn't noticed them, they were hiding behind one of them. He was a good hunter, she'd give him that much. He was quick, strong and agile—but two at once?

"Why would I do that when we can face them together? It would be easy, and less dangerous."

"Are you questioning me now? There are so many questions you should ask, and you choose this one? You were amazing at the start, talking about nightmares. Such an inquisitive hunter. Don't disappoint me. Don't ask the wrong question."

"What does that even mean?"

He smiled. "That is a good question, but not the correct one. Take the left." And he walked out from under their cover. As soon as he did, they noticed him. The one with the cannon took aim, as the other approached slowly. She could help him, or advance, for whatever reason he wanted…the logical thing was to help him fight, but surely he had a good reason to tell her to advance first. Maybe a beast that only she could fight, or some weapon she could use against the executioners. She would follow the plan, as insane as it sounded. As she looked at her arm, she saw the ribbon. The last time she didn't listen to someone…

He fought well, dodging and slashing and capturing all their attention, which allowed her to run through the entire area without being noticed. She paused at a fork by a giant gate. His last words to her were to go left…she hoped that he knew what he was doing. She didn't want those to be his last words. She didn't want people to die because of her. Never again.

She took the left and climbed a small slope, descending once she reached the top. Thank the good blood, she was out of the strange river—but that was wrong. There was blood on the ground here, too, a stream that ended where she was. The path would lead her to its spring, as blood coagulated quickly outside the vials, so it must be close by. Why didn't she feel safe? But it didn't matter. He'd asked her to continue, and maybe the blood would have a reaction on the possessed executioner. So she followed the path, encountering many corpses along the way, and strange flowers blooming in the blood. What could make this much blood? Probably a massive beast, killed recently.

The path was narrow, and it lead to a huge room that would be better described as a slaughterhouse. There were bodies on the walls, tons of them, and in the ground, forming mounds in the corners with the flowers popping out of them. At the end of the room, some stairs that were strangely clean led to a small plateau with something in the middle that looked like piled-up human and horse corpses. What had happened here? What was this dream? How many people had died in this room? Why had the hunter sent her here?

But someone interrupted her train of thought. One of the bodies was moving, a skeleton with no skin, just meat and bones. "Please…help…us….he…is…coming…Ludwig the Accursed…is…coming…" And it fell to the ground. She tried to approach it, but the pile on the plateau was moving—and it wasn't a pile. It was a beast.

Its appearance was grotesque, deformed by the transformation as it had become two things at the same time. The face had taken on an equine appearance, with the mount and teeth of a horse but still with human characteristics. One of the eyes was clouded white and unfocused, and the other narrowed on her, its glare intense and piercing. The mismatch continued throughout the body, and it had the posture and legs of a horse, but some of the legs had other legs popping out of them in strange positions. There were even legs on its back, moving randomly, and small ones on its belly; eight or nine total. It had arms only two of them, but in strange positions, one on the right side that dragged the ground, and one small, almost atrophied, with nails that looked sharp and deadly.

This was a nightmarish beast, and the worst part was its two mounts. One that looked like a human, and the other just a giant mouth, filled with something that resembled eyes. This was the worst thing she'd ever faced, and she knew she would never forget this. The beast jumped towards her, and they started to fight.

 **Update in 14/03/2017 or 03/14/2017**

 **удачи**


	13. Chapter 13

**I don't write based on words count, I write based on what I want to deliver in the chapter in question**

 **Beta by Bellum Gerere**

The beast immediately leapt in her direction. She wondered how strong its legs had to be to push her entire body out of the ground, and moved upwards to escape the large hand and body, which would crush her if they hit her. She managed to get to the left as it landed, and prepared her boom hammer with a transform attack. It usually dealt little damage, so she prepared for a flame attack. As she did it, she noticed some strange things. The left side of the beast had flesh that was one color, a mixture of horse and human, and the attack she delivered did nothing to it. It didn't show any signs of pain as a molten piece of metal burning her skin did, but a jump turned it around so its head was in front of the hunter.

She jumped backwards, fearing something, and it used its head to slam at her. The hunter released a heavy attack when it returned to its original position. Again, she didn't expect this—a huge explosion and a strong attack, and the beast didn't even show any signs that it had been hit. It moved back and prepared to sweep the area with its arms, and as it began she tried to jump under it, get below it. Unfortunately, she'd jumped too early, and she took some damage that broke her left arm, and probably her ribs. Still, she started to attack the legs of the beast. She managed to hit them, but in a confined space with the hammer, it didn't deliver much damage. It reacted by jumping backwards, slashing everything it could reach with its arms. The hunter regenerated a bit when she'd attacked it, or else she would have died immediately.

She injected two blood vials to close the cuts in her body. The beast was in front of her again, attacking downwards with its long arm. She dodged to the left, but when it reversed its trajectory, it sent her flying. The claws cut through her flesh and clothes like they were nothing. The hunter moved forward and attacked it. Her best chance was to regenerate with attacks and avoid the rest of them.

Swinging the hammer to attack hurt her left side, and she could feel her wounds regenerating as she hit an opening. It was strange, it felt almost as if she were hitting rock that her weapon bounced off, but she managed to deliver three attacks with it. The beast retreated again, slashing, and her face was hit. She injected another blood vial and ignited the hammer. It didn't matter if the beast's flesh was resistant, or her attack appeared to do no damage. It bled when it was hit, and as Gehrman said, if it bleeds, you can kill it. So she would hit it, over and over, until it died. It leaps and she dodged to the left, stepping not in the blood but on the bodies piled up at the sides of the room. She attacked. The first one was an explosion as the ignition did its job. The next were simple swings, hitting more of the flesh. The beast retreated, slashing, and she tried to dodge, but its range was greater than she expected and it caught her in the stomach, sending her backwards. She hit one of the bodies as she fell, landing in the pile of corpses. She got up, injecting a blood vial, and without warning the beast did a leap attack. She dodged and managed to deliver a swing with the hammer, hitting its corrupted flesh, and at least a transform attack. Surprisingly, the attack managed to hit a weak spot, or the damage had accumulated, but the beast screamed in pain as its left side exploded in a shower of blood, drenching the hunter. She didn't waste any time, but charged and released another attack, exploding in the flesh. She got in one more transformation attack with her weapon before it recovered.

It started to move, stooping to the ground in a chaotic pattern due to its legs' bizarre positions and instinct alone. It knew something was close to its legs. Stooping, it hit the hunter in the thigh, shattering the bones of her leg and her foot. She fell to the ground but wasted no time in injecting a blood vial and using this opportunity to strike. She delivered another charge attack to its horselike rear, resulting in a large explosion and fire damage to which the beast didn't respond. The legs did a mule kick, sending the hunter flying and breaking her ribcage in the process. For a normal human, this would mean death. The flying fragments of bone would lacerate the organs, and death by internal bleeding was imminent. However, the hunter's body healed the laceration and dissolved the shards of bone, and the injecting of another blood vial only served to speed up the regeneration. The hunter stood, supporting herself on a corpse that looked more like a piece of meat than a human. The pain in her chest was incredible.

The beast was looking at her, and she needed time for her body to repair the damage. It was wearing tatters that looked as if they'd once been the clothes of a priest of the church. That was the only thing she saw, as the beast puts its head down and screamed, charging at her. It was incredibly fast for its weight, not to mention its odd configuration of body parts. She was able to dodge to the right out of pure luck, and she could finally breathe without her chest feeling like a thousand knives. She felt the beast passing her and destroying the pile of bodies at the wall. If it had hit her, she would have died instantly. She ignited her hammer and charged. This was a perfect opportunity: the beast was dazed from running into the wall, and it needed to recover. She pulled off an explosive charge attack and a heavy attack, healing all of her damage. The beast recovered and retreated while it slashed at her, but this time she was prepared, and she managed to escape the attack and follow the beast.

They'd moved away from the walls to the middle of the room, which was an advantage for her, with less obstacles to watch out for. The beast jumped in the air, and the hunter watched in complete surprise at the height it managed to achieve. She dodged the fall and swung her hammer at it. The beast put its head down again. Another charge attack. She waited, and dodged right at the moment it passed by her, though it hit her left arm, breaking it again. She injected a blood vial, not taking her eyes of the beast. Its other head had started to emit a white light—something was bursting out of it. It moved its head side to side, vomiting white jets of something, and she didn't have time to dodge it. She felt something burning her left side, and she jumped back. Whatever that was, it was dangerous.

Ignoring the damage and the beast's proximity, she managed to get close to its heads, then she ignited her hammer and charged. The beast finished vomiting, but instead of a dead hunter and blood it received a charge attack right to the face. Its head fell to the ground, exploding as it hit, the skull weakened by the blow.

* * *

She'd killed the beast. By the good blood, it had been a difficult fight, but why did she have to do it alone? Where was the strange hunter? As she asked herself these things she didn't notice the beast was recovering. It wasn't her fault for not seeing, as in the dream she didn't absorb blood from fallen beasts anymore. The blood echoes didn't accumulate on her body, but for the blood that allowed her to regenerate.

The beast opened its eye, and in its most human head a green light appeared. It knew that light. It had looked for it so long, and it was in his side the whole time. It started to get up, looking more human than beast, holding it in his arm the same way he'd done when he was a hunter. "My true mentor…" it growled. "My guiding Moonlight."

The hunter turned. The beast wasn't a beast anymore. It stood on two legs and held a giant sword that emitted a green light. The posture was no longer that of a mindless beast, and the look in his eyes was cold and calculating. It didn't waste any time in preparing to slash with its sword. She didn't think there was any way it could hit her, but the slashes produced beams of light heading in her direction. She dodged them as quickly as possible, worried they would be worse than what she'd experienced earlier. She would have to stay close to him, so she closed the distance quickly. He advanced, doing a horizontal attack with the sword. She couldn't dodge backwards, as the sword was huge, and she would be cut. It was getting closer to her, and she ducked. It passed just a few centimeters above her head, but she felt the heat coming from the green light, and knew it would burn if it hit her.

As the sword passed, she ignited her hammer and moved closer. He retreated and advanced, thrusting with the sword. She dodged and retaliated by attacking it with an explosion of the hammer. It hit its right side, but as she'd come to expect, there was no reaction. It slashed again, and she was hit in the head, a diagonal scratch from her chin to her forehead. Thankfully, it wasn't bleeding, which would have made it difficult to see. It wasn't 'heat' she felt from the sword, but something else, burning like no fire would.

The enemy slashed downwards, and she dodged to the right, crouching, and followed the other way as it swung again. She attacked with her hammer, but he simply brought his sword down on her position. She dodged and delivered another hit. It jumped backwards, she ignited her hammer, and it returned with another thrust. She dodged and swung, and an explosion hit it, blowing off one of the legs that hung uselessly, but again, it didn't give any indication of pain. It moved quickly, slashing to the right and hitting her. It wasn't enough to send her flying, but it burned her chest and clothes. She injected a blood vial and ducked away from another slash, responding with a swing. She prepared for another swing as it jumped back, but it held the sword in two hands and pointed it at the ground as its glow intensified. She managed an explosive attack as a circle surged around it that exploded in green light, hitting her and making her retreat.

It jumped backwards, slashing the sword again. She was hit by the first swing, and injected a vial while she moved to the left to attack him. This time he held the sword upwards, and she attacked and jumped backwards as the light exploded. He immediately attacked again, cutting horizontally in her direction. This attack was different. The sword glowed a lot more than it had, and she dodged. Maybe it was hunter's intuition, but she knew that this attack was deadly—and she wasn't wrong. The sword hit the ground and a massive green shockwave radiated from it. She was still hit by it to the right; her arm and leg burned until she was able to dodge again and shoot it, giving herself enough time to inject blood vials even though the shot had been useless. It was open to attack. She moved and ignited the hammer again, her limbs burning as she hadn't had time to properly regenerate. When it stopped and returned to its position, she released a charge attack right to its face, the hammer swung horizontally. The recoil was explosive enough to displace her right arm.

It stumbled, and she saw an opportunity for a critical attack. She couldn't use her right arm, but her left would do just fine. She jumped close to it, charged, and plunged into its belly. She felt the insides of the beast, grabbed something and pushed. It exploded its insides. The skin was tough, but the inside had to be weak or malformed, as there was now a gaping hole where she'd delivered the visceral attack. It released its sword and fell in one last attempt to kill her. The last thing she saw was a hybrid horse falling on her, and she passed out.

* * *

She opened her eyes to a ceiling made of stones, with pieces of meat and blood stuck to it. She was laying down, and she felt wetness on her back, and her head resting on something soft. She was in water…not water. Blood. She got up and looked around. It was all coming back to her now. The place looked the same as before. Corpses piled in the corners, blood on the ground, stairs, the strange hunter and the corpse of the beat in the middle. She stood, her back dripping with blood. Her head had been resting on a corpse, and she didn't have her weapons. She turned to the strange hunter. She'd have to move slowly to escape the place. He had abandoned her, and she no longer knew if she could trust him.

"It started small," the strange hunter said. She wondered how he'd noticed her, with his back turned. "He was looking for a tiny piece of light, and he followed it until he ended up here. I don't think he cared about what the light was, just that it was shining. At least at the end, he passed away a human, not a beast. His ideals were untouched by the corruption of his body. He lived and died as a hunter, and I have to thank you for that."

" _You_! You left me to fight this beast alone with no warning! Are you trying to kill me? Why didn't you help me, or fight with me, you….you crazy hunter!"

"The wrong question again…the right one is so close."

"I don't care about right or wrong questions! I need answers! Are you trying to kill me?"

"Of course not," he scoffed. "If I was, you would already be dead."

"Are you threatening me? I'm stronger than I look."

He was silent for a moment. "You look a lot like someone I knew. Tell me, do you know how to fight with dual swords?"

"What? I've never tried. Who?"

"Even more like her. She never learned properly. I doubt your strength, but not your will. You killed Ludwig, the Holy Knight."

"What? Then why—wait, Ludwig? I killed Ludwig? The one that created the strongest of the Church hunters? That Ludwig?" She ended with a frustrated scream. The crow lady and Gehrman had told her stories about him. She'd just killed a legend, one that had vanished for years. By the good blood, she killed Ludwig.

"Of course. You are quite light. I expected you to be heavier."

"How do you know that?"

"I removed your body from under him. In that moment, I simply could have killed you, but no. You still have yet to ask me the right question." She didn't stop to think about how she'd been knocked unconscious by a hybrid horse corpse. He could have killed her or let her die, but why wouldn't he fight with her? It wasn't a good question, according to him, and she knew she would have to continue to follow him to get out.

"Alright. Let's continue. But please, if you won't fight at my side, will you tell me?"

"A question. Not a good one, but one that will be answered. Here, take this." He held out a sword, large with strange signs resembling Ludwig's blade…it had to be the one he was carrying. But it was smaller, fit for a person and not a giant beast. She picked it up. It was only a sword, a bit heavy but light enough to hold in one hand, and good balance. But was it a cutting sword, or one to be used more like a club? Larger swords usually depended more on strength than the sharpness of the blade. She passed a finger across the blade and was cut, and the sword glowed green. Before she could figure out what had happened, the hunter interrupted her train of thought. "Apparently you have a lot of arcane, if the sword reacts to you in this way. What this means is obvious…what kind of home did you live in?"

"A big house with the rest of my family, with a large library that was three stories. Why? And what do you mean, arcane?"

"That explains more and more. The reason I asked is clear, and arcane…well, it is the capacity of touching and manipulating the strange—things we don't know, or aren't familiar with. Touching the unknown, but not understanding. You can gain a lot by being close to the unknown, and having a lot of arcane explains even more about you, don't you think?"

"I don't think so. I kind of understand, but the green light made Ludwig go crazy, didn't it? Will I go crazy if I use it? Fall to beasthood like him, without noticing?" The story felt so similar. Falling without noticing, becoming something you fear without realizing it…she didn't want it to happen again.

"Ludwig was a strange man. One of the strongest and smartest hunters. He wrote a book with tips and tricks for his Soldiers to help them fight beasts, even though they weren't hunters. He was one of the most valorous individuals that I knew, a true old knight from the tales, loyal and compassionate. That was his problem—he never accepted what being a hunter meant. He didn't' want to kill beasts that looked like humans, in human form. A knight wouldn't do that; they would find a cure, or deny killing beings that were human. Ludwig didn't want to be a hunter, but a knight. That was why he called himself the Holy Blade, and his hunters valorous Spartans. He always gave them the aura of heroes. The sword was just an excuse to escape his problems, and he sank deep into it to escape his fear of waking one day and discovering that in the end he wasn't a hero or a knight. Just a hunter."

For the first time the crazy hunter lost his air of mystery. His speech didn't seem insane, just a succession of ideas, but sad. He looked old and tired like Gehrman, like he had too heavy a burden to carry. He'd probably known Ludwig. She wasn't sure what to do. Comfort him? Say it wasn't his fault? She did the most logical thing, and stayed in silence until he returned to his normal posture. "That sword has a long history. It's called the Holy Moonlight Sword, from which Ludwig took part of his name. It adapts to the owner. If it's a large man, it will be suited for them, if it's a smaller person it will adapt. How does it do it? Well, some secrets are best left hidden, as a certain person says…"

He stopped, staring into the pile of corpses. "Its story is shrouded in legend. Some say it was forged from the tail of one of the everlasting dragons that ruled the earth before the age of fire. They later appeared in a kingdom called Drangleic, and was forged again using the soul of the dragon whose tail was cut. Later, during the age of ashes, it was forged by the soul of a crazy king who became a dragon. After that, some tell, it appeared in the legendary kingdom Boletarian and was used in the fight against the demon that roamed the kingdom."

"So you're saying it's appeared in all the legends?" She laughed. This was complete craziness. "Lodran, Drangleic, these are just myths, not truth. It's impossible for the sword to survive this long, and being forged by dragon tails and swords? That doesn't make sense."

He looked at her with a grin. "Neither do humans that turn into beasts, or Amygdalas, or Nightmares. All of them are insane, if you think about it. Tell someone who isn't a hunter and doesn't live in Yharnam about the beast plague. They will call you crazy, and that's a bit pedantic, since as hunter's we're already crazy, but that isn't the point. Let's get going. We have hunters to send to rest."

She sighed and followed him away from the corpse of Ludwig, ascending the stairs of the plateau and going down a small passage to the left. They ascended another flight of stairs, and as she neared the top she heard "Beasts are a curse, and a curse is a shackle. Only ye are the true blades of the Church." The speech was coming from a door to the right. The wood was old and scratched, and when she tried to open it, it was locked. The prayer continued. The door had a small window, which she peered inside to see a man in a green vest, praying against the wall. The vest looked worn out, like (as with everything else in this nightmare) it had lost its color. The entire place looked old, as if it had continued in never-ending degradation. But now she was thinking like the crazy hunter. "He will continue," he said. "Unending. If he ever stops, he will fall to beasthood, not very different from us. Have you ever heard of a hunter that stopped hunting?"

She looked at him and he looked back. "So he'll just continue to keep from falling? It doesn't make a difference. He'll have to stop eventually, and then he'll fall. He can't go on eternally, and even if he could, that's no life. Just an eternal prison. And hunters can't stop hunting because the hunt is eternal." But his last words…hunters couldn't stop, but if they did, then what?

"Yes, not very different from us. Hunters cannot stop hunting, because what are we aside from the hunt? Can we start a farm, have children, find love? We are no different from this man, except that we deny we care. None of us expect that will happen. Not much different than death is to normal folk, but someday it will come." Now he was looking at her full-on, saying there will come a time with no hunt. And then what? She would go back home? See the world? Help people; be a hero? After all this, she couldn't imagine anything other than the hunt.

The crazy hunter was already walking ahead. It was best if she left this alone. The place they were in now felt like a prison—rooms with barred doors, a suffocating presence, lit only by a distant lamp. As always, it looked abandoned, with dust on the floors and mold on the walls. They dispatched a few beasts quickly, and she was surprised at the power of this sword. She cut off one's arm without any problems. The only issue was how quickly it depleted her stamina, and its speed compared to other weapons. Now they could continue. All of the doors were closed and the rooms empty, or filled with corpses, but there was a large gate leading to stairs that went down. She was going to check it when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She spun quickly, raising her sword, but it was just the crazy hunter, who'd jumped backwards to escape the blow. "Not everyone that touches you wants to harm you, hunter."

"I know. It's an automatic response. Anything that's touched me until now has killed me."

"It usually takes a couple of years for this response in humans. Some never develop it. You're a fantastic individual. The stairs go to nothing."

She raised her eyebrow. "Why? Nothing of value? Or more secrets you can't reveal?"

He sighed. "It's just nothing."

"Then there should be no problem in me going to check it, right?" she said as she descended the stairs. She didn't like his talk of secrets. At the end of the stairs was another barred door, and the room inside was full of destroyed furniture—and a figure in the corner, moving.

"A hunter," it said. "Strange…tell me, do you hear the toll of the bell?"

She'd only heard bells in nightmares and chalice dungeons. Not here. "No, I didn't. Why? What are you doing here? Are you trapped?" She tried to open the door but it was locked, the knob rusted.

"Well, the beasts that you seek aren't here. Go back to the hunt and be gone of this place. Some are better left untouched, some secrets better left to rot." He remained silent after that, ignoring her attempts to talk. She gave up and returned to the crazy hunter, who was smiling.

"Did you find anything? Sate your wild curiosity?"

"Another crazy man who asked if I heard a bell, and told me to leave. As if I had a choice." The smile was gone, a frown taking its place. "Do you know him? Is he a hunter?" she asked.

He sighed. "It isn't a man."

"A hunter, then? A beast? I fought one that disguised itself as a human." The memory of that mistake flashed in front of her.

"No; it's just a tool."

"What do you mean? It was alive. Is it human, beast, or hunter?"

"Tools can be living things. They don't care about their actions, just do what they're asked without wondering why or how. They don't have anything beyond need to complete their task. It was given an objective and it will follow it. At least now, it differs from others, individuals and people of the church." Anger was in his voice, and he stared at her as if she shouldn't have asked that question. If she had the boom hammer she would be more confident. She'd already mastered it, unlike this sword. He turned and continued farther into this old and forgotten place and she followed, as before, without choice. She had to find a way back, even if it meant staying near this crazy hunter.

 **Follow** **, Review, critiquize me if you want or anything.**

 **Update in 24/03/17 or 03/24/17**

 **удачи**


	14. Chapter 14

**It's two in the morning where I live, I am so tired so just read, next time I promises the author note will be something clever or retard or the two...**

 _Hold, hold. Almost there._ The beast approached her. _Just a few more seconds_. The glowing of the sword was getting stronger, casting a green-blue aura around it that reminded her of the attacks she'd received from Ludwig. It wasn't exactly the same—she hadn't had the sword for years and learned its tricks like he had, or studied with an obsession to escape reality and deny her nature as a hunter. She knew her attacks wouldn't be as strong, but a thrust of the fully-charged weapon alongside the strong arcane allowed the glowing aura to deal more damage. She wasn't Ludwig in many respects (she wasn't male, for example, or a hybrid horse-human beast), but at least she had accepted what she was. A hunter. Her attack would deal quite a bit of damage, all things considered, if the sword piercing through the body of a beast, still in human form, like it was nothing could be counted as powerful. The beast was burned by the aura as well, breaking any resistance immediately.

The strength of the hit didn't matter, though, but the fact that the beast was dead, its white clothes burned by the aura and turning red from the blood pouring out of the wound in its stomach. It was almost a symbolic image; someone wearing the clothes of a Vicar being killed by one wearing the clothes of a hunter. It spoke to the failing of the Church and the ascension of hunters, and would appear in quite a large number of journals, a recent invention in Yharnam. The face of the hunter was blank while she killed. Just another job. The Vicar's surprised expression just added more impact to the image. But, as with all things, the image was lost as the hunter removed her sword from the Vicar's body and it fell to the ground, lifeless. At least one person had seen it, though—the so-called crazy hunter. He'd just dealt with the beast he was fighting and was observing the hunter. What a fight, he thought, and the image at the end was the best. Such a beautiful thing, and another piece in the puzzle of who this hunter was. "Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. I haven't seen something like that for a long time."

The hunter turned her head, sword still glowing. "What's beautiful? Me killing this beast?" Was he not only crazy, but falling? He was enjoying watching her too much.

"Of course not. Your legs, the amazing movements, such precision and accuracy while carrying a large sword. Tell me, have you ever fought with such a large weapon before?"

"No. Only with the Kirkhammer and the Boom Hammer. No large swords. Why?"

He started in the direction of the altar. It was a strange place they were in now, with a high ceiling that she had to crane her neck to see. The rest of it looked fairly normal, beds lining the walls and trays covered in medical equipment similar to what she'd found in the Blood Clinic. The only difference was the obvious signs of age. Something didn't feel right, though. The stairs led to a prison, and the room after that was basically a slaughterhouse, home to one of the toughest beasts she'd face. It wasn't a normal Blood Clinic by any means. The altar in the room was surrounded by strange statues, though Yharnamites probably found them normal. On the altar was a surgical table, on which rested a corpse with fabric draped over his lower half and most of its head. The rest was a hole. The artist had to have been talented, as it looked like a real corpse and not stone. Two of the three statues around it faced each other, but separated by the table. One held a ring, the other a book, and the third was in between them with his arms positioned as if he were praying. They looked strange next to the corpse, not as detailed, and it was clear they weren't made to look real. The same care wasn't put in the details, and in comparison they were poorly represented.

As she indulged herself looking at these details, the crazy hunter put the eye pendant in the hole of the skull. The altar started to make strange sounds, and to move. She climbed on it, but the crazy hunter descended. She waited, looking at him. The altar started to move upwards—some kind of elevator. He looked at her again. "Do you like apples?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"A very important one. Do you like apples?"

By the good blood. She put her face in her hands. "I don't care for fruits much, especially apples."

"You're wrong."

"What? How can I be wrong about my opinion?"

"Apples aren't a fruit, just a pseudofruit." She just stared. "Why don't you like them? The taste?"

"I don't know, I just don't, I don't know the taste…are you trying to distract me?"

"I just want to know if you like apples."

"Why didn't we take the altar elevator? It was right here." As she said it, it stopped moving above them, but another altar had taken its place, one that resembled the one in the Great Cathedral. It had the same beast head—which the crazy hunter proceeded to pick up and put in his bag, as he walked away. "Why did you do that? Why didn't we take the elevator?"

"Come. The hunt continues."

"Answer my questions!"

"I will as we walk. Do you Southerners not talk while you're walking?"

It took a while for them to talk again. He was walking quickly, but she managed to match his pace. "So why didn't we take the elevator? Why are we coming back? Are you going to answer or am I speaking for nothing?"

"We didn't take the elevator because we have unfinished business here."

"What unfinished business?"

"Unfinished business is business that hasn't been completed. I believe you want to exit this nightmare; for that we have finished all unfinished business." She was silent for a moment.

"Don't treat me like a child, I know what it means. What kind of business?"

"I'm not treating you like a child, I'm treating you like a person. I'm not speaking condescendingly, am I?" He was changing the subject. He had to be.

"Answer me. What business?"

"Well, you know how the nightmare works, right? I don't care if you do, I like to talk about them. A nightmare is formed around something or someone. Its verb form is transitive, so it doesn't need an object—"

"I don't care about grammar. Skip the explanation, I already know it. Tell me about the business."

He frowned. "To escape the nightmare, he has to end, and to end him you have to kill his…pillars. I don't know how to describe them in a language you would understand. The nightmare was constructed around sins of the founding fathers, and our excesses. The pillars represent the mistakes of hunters that led to its creation."

"What?' That doesn't make any sense. What about Ludwig? What mistakes did he make?"

He stopped and looked at her. "I already told you, but you seem to have forgotten. Such a feeble memory and lack of attention to detail. The denial of his hunter nature was his downfall. Pretending to be something else. If you don't accept what you are…" He started to walk again. She too had denied what she was, and what had that cost her? The death of two innocents. Hunters were not heroes, she wouldn't deny that anymore. She was here to hunt beasts.

"So we're going to one of the pillars, right?"

"Of course. In this case, it's a beast, but yes."

"How many of them do we need to kill?"

"Six. And we? It's not the plural we, but the singular you." She'd have to fight six beasts alone? She wouldn't ask why; his reasons would be incomprehensible. What a strange number.

"Why six? It's odd…"

"Six has the same number of letters as one, ten, and two, and it's the only primary number with an X. It's a—how do you say it?—a cool number."

"It couldn't be another number?"

"Like what? Three? Three is such a perfect number. Just in between too few and too many. Or seven, another prominent hunter, or twelve or nine, I believe."

"But six is…it isn't a cool number."

"Of course it is. Three plus three. Two perfect numbers make an even more perfect number." The conversation was getting to be too much for her. She need to change subjects; they were straying too far into his domain of pure insanity.

"If Ludwig's sin was denial of his nature, what's next?"

"First, don't simply say those words," he said angrily. "It was much more than denying he was a hunter, it was the whole concept of denial. The way to achieve it was turning into a beast. He denied what was real around him and focused only on the abstract world. The essence preceded the existence. That was his fall. He made a concept of a hunter in his head that wasn't real, and it destroyed him. In your words, it would be trying to say that a god of extremes is just the god of sex and pain. Such a simplistic explanation, and a wrong one, not encompassing the scope of such a large definition." He was either very clever or completely insane. She couldn't think of any other way to describe him…. No, wait. He was insane. Essence precedes existence…what? What kind of blood he had taken to tell her these things?

"Sorry. What's next, then?"

"I won't tell you."

What? "Sorry, what did you just say?"

"I don't have a reason to tell you. Is he dead? No. So why would I tell you what he is? It would make no difference. Kill him, and then I'll tell you."

"I want to know what it is I'm fighting."

He laughed, a cackle befitting a crazy man. "No, you don't. You're a hunter. You don't question what you fight, or kill. What would be the need? You just follow orders." She wanted to retaliate, but it was true. The two of them continued on their way to the next pillar. The next mistake. Laurence.

* * *

The Giant Cathedral was just minutes away. Their travel had been calm, some smaller beasts and fallen hunters all that blocked their way. By the good blood, they'd found a number of supplies, including bullets and blood vials, and she felt prepared for a fight against this Laurence. As they neared, a question sprung up in her mind. People had told her she looked like another hunter. Alfred said she looked like a traitor, and the crazy hunter said she reminded him of someone he knew. But who was this person? She had a mother, of course, but she didn't like her strict and severe ways. It was a difficult thing to believe, that it might have been her. "Cr—"

"My name is Simon. Names are important. And I'm not crazy. Just not normal, either."

What a common name, unfitting for his personality. "Simon, you said I looked like someone you knew. Who was it?"

He sighed, looking tired. "How to begin? She was in a group of four. The one that loved her, a dusty old crow—not literally, but it did look like one—and the third…" He remained in silence for a time, as if gathering strength. "Abandoned. She went missing, and the lover and the old crow looked for her, but she'd abandoned all of us to hunt vermin and other lies she created for herself?"

"What was she like?"

"Good. A bit shy at the beginning. I didn't belong to their group, but I was friends with most of them, as most hunters knew each other. As the years passed, I grew to know them well. We hunted together, drank together, shared stories. In the end the shyness stopped, but she remained the same…all of us changed, in a way. The hunt molded us. But not her, admirably. She admitted what she was, and had a killing streak when it came to beasts, but she was the same. Something that's unique about hunters is that with every beast we kill, we lose a piece of ourselves. But not her."

This made her quite emotional, for some reason, and she hastened to change the subject. "What of the others?"

"The lovesick one wasn't bad. Liked to follow the rules; rarely did anything spontaneous or adventurous. She made the lovesick a better person, as he always said, but in my opinion they already were one. I don't know what happened to them, but I hope they continued that way. A good one, a very good one. The crow…well, it was from a distant land, alongside the goner. It looked like a crow, and said it was according to some powers, but that was probably a lie. It was the tattered clothes that gave that crowlike appearance. The goner…took the hunter's job very seriously. Kill beasts. Hollow on the inside, thought of nothing besides killing. For a time, I thought the goner and the lovesick were in love. It fit in a way, but as she arrived any chance of that happening was gone.

"We're here," he said suddenly, and they were indeed at the gates of the Giant Cathedral. Simon passed her the bag containing the head. "May the Good Blood guide your way, and remember, we only really die when we give up." He still looked tired, as if he didn't want to talk about the past. She took the bag and ascended the stairs to fight Laurence.

* * *

The beast was in flames, burning atop the altar like before, headless. She approached, holding the bag, unsure what to do with it. Climb and put it on the beast's neck? Say some words? But it wouldn't be necessary, as the beast started to move. It was immense, and resembled a Cleric Beast, except for the flames, and its massive size. She threw the sack away as it got close, and the beast followed it. She didn't waste any time in following it to deliver some attacks. Her plan didn't work very well, as she only managed to get one hit off on it in its haste. It took the sack, which immediately burned with his touch, and put its head on its neck.

The thing was hot; even just being close to it was beginning to burn her skin. Her sword was probably molten to the touch by now, just from hitting it. As it put its head back on, the fire got stronger, and she managed one more attack before it jumped back and screamed, eerily reminiscent of the Cleric Beast. It punched the ground with its left arm where she'd been, but she moved out of the way. She was at its right, attacking its legs. It appeared that the beast had somehow managed to get its fist stuck in the ground, and she took advantage of the extra time to attack.

It removed its fist with a wind of fire, hitting her clothes. The held, by the good blood, but the parts of her body that were exposed burned immediately, covering her skin with blisters. She jumped back and injected a blood vial, internally sighing with relief as they started to disappear, her face healing. Its fist to the ground again caused an explosion of fire; now it had turned and they were face to face. It didn't waste any time, swinging its large arm at her and following with the other. It nearly hit her, and she dodged its upward strike, moving behind it. If the thing was like the Cleric Beast, she thought, maybe if she hit one part of its body enough times she would break it. She swung the sword repeatedly at its right leg, and she could feel the bone breaking a little with every hit she delivered. Just a couple more, she thought, but then the explosion happened. She felt the fire burning, but it was far enough away not to hit her. The beast jumped backwards, trying to put itself in front of her and succeeding.

It started with a large attack using its long arm, and she dodged. It followed it up with another swing of its shorter arm, and she ducked, expecting the fist, but instead it tried to grab her in its hands. She rolled out of the way to the right side, hitting its leg more and more. It was near the breaking point when the beast threw its right arm at her. The fire burned intensely, and she injected a blood vial, thanking the good blood she hadn't flown back. She was going to attack again when it turned in her direction.

It was capable of turning and attacking incredibly fast, and she barely managed to escape the punches it threw her way. The ground exploded with each hit of its fist, but she managed to dodge and deliver the final blow to its right leg. It exploded, and beast screamed, putting its head down as the leg fell. She used the opportunity to transform her sword, casting its green aura and charging it. The attack was easy to perform, but hard to land, and the beast was already returning to its normal posture. The leg was probably healing, and she felt herself getting burned, but the position was perfect—a clear shot to the head. She released the sword, her vertical slash unleashing a beam of green light that consumed a silver bullet. It hit the head of the beast, and it immediately screamed in pain, but she wasn't done. She ascended the sword with a slash, letting loose a lesser beam that still managed to hit it in the head, which was clearly a weak spot.

The beast screamed and put its left hand on its head, its right swiping at her, interrupting her beam attack and sending her flying. Again, she felt the burning in her skin, her clothes starting to fall apart, and she injected a vial out of instinct, not even looking. The sword's aura still glowed, and she held it with two hands. The beast turned to her. It looked like it still had a lot of blood to spend before it died, and she had many blood vials. The beast prepared for another attack. This would take a while.

* * *

Legs and apples. It was so logical, the question so obvious—or, at least, its reasoning was. How could she not see? The legs and apples were real hints, ones he hoped she'd notice, but she changed the subject to the past, and nightmares. The spider should have been there any moment, but where was he? He remembered the past, pedantic memories, imagining what it would be like if they were memories of the future, if one could travel forward in time…

He could try all he wanted. The memories were three. The girl looked like the woman's daughter. They had the same eye color, a rare one in Yharnam but not so much in strangers and Vilebloods. The hair color, a mixture of two, was rare as well, though it looked as though one would be dominant. Only one other person he knew had it, but she'd stopped it after a while: the same woman he suspected was her mother. This was the woman she claimed people had told her she looked like. Probably her mother. But had she had children? The memories were hazy, but the spider would clarify. He needed only one paper and all would be clear, because in the end, the woman liked flowers.

He waited in the stairwell of the Cathedral. He could hear the sounds of battle, but heeded them little. She would persevere and put Laurence to rest, he had no doubt. She was his only chance to end this nightmare, and he wouldn't put too many obstacles in her way. The paper would confirm many things, and reveal some secrets.

He heard the footsteps, the subtle walking of a spider. So he'd arrived, appearing in front of him. A spider with a human head, the only being capable of traveling between dreams and nightmares. Its head was bald, its face always smiling wickedly, like a beast that had trapped its prey. It looked untrustworthy, but Simon didn't care. He needed something, and quickly. "How much for this, Patches?" He passed him a paper, which he took with his legs and read for a moment.

"Twenty."

To find a document? "Why so expensive? Is it difficult to find?" Patches was always jovial and funny, but he treated him coldly, always charging up the deals. Simon didn't care; the information was worth it. Just business. The smile stayed on his face. It would never leave.

"It is in the domain of a certain god." So she was with involved with them….it fit. One piece, and not it appeared to be another picture. Perhaps she was…the paper would clarify, if needed. The spider was quite expensive, but it was his only chance to solve this puzzle. When they'd met...before the nightmare, far before. The memories had come to haunt him again. The hunter had stirred them, and now the spider…

 _It had been just another night, just another hunt. He was clearing out a library—two small rooms stacked high with books. A rich place befitting rich people, for what was a library if not a place for the rich? Who else knew how to read besides the elite of Yharnam? Of course, he himself knew how to write and read, albeit badly, courtesy of the church. All of her hunters had to be alphabetized, for some strange reason. Most only learned to read and write their own names, the Church's only demand, but he chose to continue, thinking it might serve him well in the future. For now, to see how expensive the books were, and strange, with names like_ The Face of the Thousand Men _…what did that even mean? A face belonging to a thousand people?_

 _Well, he'd continue his job, which wasn't to read, but to hunt beasts. He'd fought some wolf-beast, making some books fall to the ground. It was dead now, but where was the owner? Probably well, as the remains of the clothing on the beast were the clothes of the poor, not the rich. The owner of this library would surely dress better than that. Well, he'd have an unpleasant surprise in the morning._

 _He heard something falling in the other room and went running to investigate. Beasts usually wandered in pairs, so it was probably the companion of the one he had slayed—but it was a spider, one with a human head that had fallen off the ceiling. Maybe the floor had collapsed? Possibly, but his fight was with beasts, not poorly constructed floors, so no matter. He would quickly end the life of this abomination._

" _No! Please, no, good sir! I am just an innocent being cursed to become a spider. Have mercy on my poor, sad soul, noble hunter." It spoke. How strange. It appeared to be rational as well. No transformation of blood had this effect, as far as he knew. It might have been an experiment of the Church. It was sickening, to think the organization he worked for would do such a thing. Of course, it hadn't been confirmed but there were rumors, and where there was smoke there is often fire. But what to do about this human spider? Put an arrow through its head, or let it leave? It didn't seem threatening, just odd. It was small, had no pincers, and was rational enough not to attack without reason. But a hunter is a hunter, so he would dispatch it quickly. He prepared his sword to deliver the blow as the spider tried to reason with him. "Spare the life of this poor cursed being! I can offer you blood—no, weapons—no, wait! I can provide information!"_

 _That made him stop. He was interested in this information—more about this place where he served the church, if this thing was indeed a creation of the church. Too many strange things were happening. Talk of experiments, Old Ones, evolution. Of course, it could just be a lie, but he decided to listen. That was how their relationship had started._

In the end it wasn't a creation or experiment but, according to it, a case of bad luck, a ritual that went wrong. The information was free at first, in exchange for saving his life, so he asked simple questions and got simple answers, but as time when on he started to ask for documents, proof of the answers. Then Patches demanded payment in the only coin that was universal to all in Yharnam: blood. And even in the nightmare, Patches found him to trade. How? Well, he would answer, it was because he existed in more than one plane, and could traverse dimensions, and why would he even bother to ask that? It made no sense. Someone couldn't be in more than one place, because if they were they would be a clone, and he was fairly certain Patches didn't have any clones.

After a while, he lost the need to put on a façade of jovial conversation. Nothing came of using this tone, so like any practical spider-hybrid would, he stuck to business, though still with that same smile and intonation that would never be lost.

"Twenty of type eight, am I correct?"

The spider didn't answer. He removed a bag of clothes, dirty and old like the rest of his possessions. He started to remove the coldblood—coagulated blood found in some beasts—and throw it to the spider. The higher the type, the more blood it would give when it was destroyed. He counted twenty, and the spider picked them up and put them…somewhere, he didn't question it. He proceeded to leave, and Simon listened to the sound of his skittering fade away. He knew that the spider was stealing, charging too high a price, but he would give him what he asked for another puzzle piece, to crack the case of what this hunter was.

 **Update in probably a month, university is beginning where i live so well I will have to change my schedule. The previous scheme of updates was possible as i had the entire day free now... Review Update or Favorite but review mostly.**


	15. Consequences

**Beta By Bellum Gerere**

Normally, the only people who even came close to the giant clock were maintenance personnel, and even then, it was only to do repairs. What else would they do? A clock is supposed to show time, but one can't see it if they're inside of one. Of course, that wasn't the reason that people stayed away—the reason, simply, was the noise. The clock made a ridiculous amount of it, from the ticking mechanism to the chiming bells when an hour had passed. Staying near it too long would make anyone deaf. That was why it was difficult to reach the mechanism, and the entrance was blocked off to anyone besides the maintenance personnel.

So that was why, in the end, the choice to make one's workplace inside a giant clock was…strange, to say the least. Even more, the work being done there had absolutely nothing to do with clocks. Why would one do that? Well, the individual working there was famous for his eccentricities, though respected by many, so no one would question his decision too closely. There was, they assumed, probably some larger, complex reason behind it. But in the office, he couldn't hear the clock through the panel of strong glass wrapped around the mechanism, suppressing the sound of the gears. They were still everywhere, though, woven into the aesthetic of the room, the tables and chairs in the middle of the room and even above the doors to the three elevators.

Outside of that, it was clean. A table and a chair, nothing else—no bookshelves, no sofas, no anything. The one responsible for that was not in the chair, but looking out the window. Perhaps that was why he'd chosen this place; the view was amazing, and one could see the entirety of the school and the city beyond. As the man looked out, occasionally sipping his coffee, his eyes were completely focused on the view. The woman at his side was speaking, and though it didn't look like it, he was listening to her every word.

"…the enrollment for new students began today; the numbers are a bit higher than last year's. Probably one more team…"

The man took a sip of the coffee. "You'd already selected the ones that would enter."

"Yes," she sighed. "As always, I pick the ones with the highest grades and best recommendations at their schools…the refused names, I had sent to your scroll."

"I trust you, Glynda, to select the students, but grades and recommendations aren't the only things that make good hunters. With that, I'll be selecting some names."

She looked at him. Yes, she expected that. Every year, he did the same, picking some of the ones she'd refused. His choices were…complicated, to say the least. Some had low grades, others forged papers. She didn't protest because some of these students that she had refused went on to become great hunters. But he never told her the names until the last minute. It made her job much harder—the amount of paperwork involved…

He took another sip and sat down, putting his mug on the desk. None of it had gotten on his clothes, a green scarf that somehow didn't stand out against the stark black of the rest of his outfit. Perhaps it was his grey hair and the strange pin in the scarf, or the small glasses on his eyes, hidden just a bit by the sharpness of his face. He put his cane down and picked up his scroll, looking at the refused names. Glynda moved to the side of the table. "The tests for those without school backgrounds will begin in two weeks, the same as last year. A strength and technique test with Peter and an interview with Bartholomew."

He didn't look up, though she knew he paid close attention to her words. She continued to discuss the details of the testing when one of the elevator doors slid open. They both looked over, neither surprised when they saw who the visitor was.

There are many ways to enter a room: confident, like you own the place; shy, trying to blend in with the walls; sexy, to draw the attention of others. It depended on the person, but how this visitor entered, well…he walked in, drinking deeply from a flask, undone beard and messy black hair on display. He wore a grey dress shirt and black pants and shoes, all of which looked old and uncared for. Completing his attire was a red cloak dotted with a great number of holes. He gave off the impression of being an alcoholic—always drinking, no care for his appearance. But to Ozpin and Glynda, this was Qrow as normal; if he'd entered any other way they would likely be concerned. To Glynda, it would be a breach in the natural order of things. The moon was broken, the sky was blue, and Qrow was always drunk. After he swallowed the large gulp, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

"Oz. Glynda." Ozpin opened his mouth to answer, but Glynda was faster.

"Good afternoon, Qrow. Would you mind telling me what you're doing here?" There was anger evident in her tone.

"Good afternoon to you, too. The same as always." To his credit, she looked the same. Same blonde hair in a bun, curl hanging loose, the same glasses and the same outfit—black skirt buttoned up the middle, black boots, a white top with large cuffs. The same jade earrings and pendant, family gifts from when she became a huntress. The only thing that didn't match was the black cape, ending in strange forms. A last gift from a friend.

"Aren't you supposed to be on another continent?" She pressed some buttons on her scroll. "I have a message from you. _Going to Vacuo to look for clues, back in who knows?_ That was from three days ago. Why are you here? Getting drunk in bars again?"

He held his hands up, a sign of surrender. "Aggressive today, aren't you? I'll go to Vacuo after this, but first I wanted to know about my niece."

She quickly pressed another series of buttons. "Yang Xiao Long. She presented her enrollment this morning. Her grades in theory are low, but above the cutoff. Her fighting grades are the highest in the entire school, and she has recommendations from every teacher. Her enrollment has been approved. She only needs to pass the entrance test to get into Beacon…Qrow, how did she even manage to enroll?"

Now he was laughing, taking a sip from his flask. "They fought for a whole day. Taiyang sure put up a fight trying to convince her to stay, but she is my sister's daughter, after all, so 'no' means nothing to her. Actually it meant just scream louder, for us, so much that in the end Taiyang accepted so I had to take him out for a drink after he finally gave up and let her enroll. That's why I'm still here. Consoling my best friend and trying to convince him he wouldn't lose another daughter…that everything would be fine…"

Glynda looked up for a moment. "I'm sorry, Qrow."

He made a dismissive gesture. "It was Ruby I came to talk about, not Yang."

"Qrow, it's been ten years…"

Ozpin, who until now had been silent, interjected. "I believe the last lead you discovered when nowhere, unfortunately. I have no new news or clues about the whereabouts of your niece."

"No news…..nothing from the clowns in Atlas?"

"Nothing. I'll send a message to James and the other councils and leaders around Remnant, to see if anyone has heard anything."

He drank again, then stood in silence for a while. "Take care of Yang," he said finally. "She's the only one he has left."

Then he walked back to the elevator, his shoulders down as he lifted the flask to his mouth again. As the doors closed, Glynda looked at Ozpin. "Is this healthy for him?"

He closed his eyes. "Of course not, but he refuses to move on. He believes she's alive somewhere. Taiyang too, but at least he had Yang to take care of. Still, he never moved on."

"Is it possible that she's alive? Maybe in the hands of the Queen?"

"No, the Queen's not responsible for this. The creature that attacked Qrow was too different from anything she's made, and the way it removed his Aura…if it was her, we'd have heard of more cases of strange mists that remove auras in a fight. James sent me a paper about that mist. It requires an ingredient that, according to his scientists, is impossible to replicate, and they've never actually found it."

Glynda relaxed, looking back down at her scroll. "Her sister said it was a tall man. Grey hair, old dirty clothes, carrying a scythe and a blunderbuss. I checked for hunters or criminals using this combination, but nothing. When I searched only scythes, Qrow was the only result. He's the only hunter to use a scythe in Remnant that was alive at the time of the kidnap."

Ozpin sighed. "We never even found any clues as to who that man was, nor the strange creature that attacked Qrow…first Summer, then Ruby…how many more will we fail to protect?"

Glynda remained silent, and they stayed that way for a long time, both thinking that nothing could be said for the ones they had failed to save.

 **Still not dead, don't worry I have a batch of new chapters coming.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Tired...no epic phrase or anything, I am just tired.**

What kind of beast survived without half of its body, pouring lava instead of blood? It was a bit much in her opinion, even though the thing was on fire—it wasn't the only beast with this characteristic, but it continued to fight. The watchdog, another beast like this, had at least stopped when she broke one of its legs, but Laurence continued to fight even though half of his body had exploded. A normal beast with lava for blood would have a limited supply of it, right? She had to attack the head until it too was destroyed, and then the beast finally died. She'd almost expected it to continue fighting. She'd seen headless beasts before, in the Chalice Dungeons, though those places were odder than most.

Laurence's corpse laid there, the head detached and still burning. The lava had stopped pouring from its body, so it was dead. It had to be. It wasn't moving. She raised her sword and started to cut its left arm. Always hit the beast twice—a saying of Gehrman's, and besides, Ludwig had come back. Best to cut the arms off, just to be sure…and the rest of the body. And throw some water on it, possibly. Could the flames be a sign he still lived? But how would she get water here—did this nightmare even _have_ water? She'd only seen blood; she would have to get it in the distant canal, but how to get it back here? Perhaps Simon could help her. He could watch the body while she got the blood to stop this thing from—

"He's dead. You know that, right?" She stopped trying to sever the beast's left arm and looked in the direction of the voice. Maybe her blade was stuck, or she recognized the sound, but she didn't immediately attack, only looked. It was Simon, who continued speaking. "You destroyed the most important thing to him. Knowledge. With that, he is dead. He lived for knowledge, sought it and created the Church for it…"

"I didn't destroy knowledge. I destroyed his head and the lower half of his body. Well, I sort of destroyed it. It blew up."

He laughed. "Tell me, what part of the body does the head have? Not counting the eyes, the nose, the ears, the neck, the skin, the eyebrows, the forehead, the teeth, the Adam's apple…"

She sighed. This was ridiculous, even for him. "So you're telling me the knowledge is in the chin? That's stupid. It doesn't make any sense."

He stopped laughing, stroking his own chin with his hand. "Ah. I forgot the chin, but I'm happy you're thinking like me. Soon you will become an inquisitive hunter, noticing the small details but missing the big ones. The part I speak of is the brain. Where memories and knowledge are stored in a formation of electric signals. There are a lot of parts to what we foolishly call the brain. Take the cerebellum, for instance, that has the—"

"Stop. I understand. I destroyed the head and the brain's knowledge, and that's why he died. Fine." She was becoming like him. She'd said chin. For a moment she'd believed the chin could store knowledge…he was rubbing off on her. What would happen if it continued? She would end up crazy just like him, talking about cerebellam or creballem—whatever the name was. Before she could dwell on how crazy she was becoming, he continued.

"Another one gone. Two of six. Four left. A number without charm. But let's go; the hunt doesn't stop and certainly you don't either. You want to go home, right? But what is home? Even the most horrible places can become home if you visit enough, and create a familiarity with the place. Even a bonfire can become a home if you're there often."

He started walking, and she followed him. He was right, she'd give him that. Yharnam was "home." She knew the place, the streets, the directions and the people that she'd allowed to die. She looked again at her right hand and sighed. She knew the entire city by now; it was a horrid home, but still home. She considered the Hunter's dream more of a true home. The people there were still alive, and the Doll was good. Tall and a bit odd (it was a living doll, after all), but she was kind, much more so than other people she'd met in this life. But by the good blood, how tall was she? Gehrman, on the other hand, was a good trainer, helping her become a better hunter even if his methods amounted to _go there and die until you learn_. She could blame him partially for becoming a monster, as he taught her about the hunt and how to overcome things like killing innocents. She looked at her arm again. The beasts that looked like people…but he'd warned her about beasthood. This mistake was hers alone, she couldn't throw it at others. Only the rules of this nightmare kept her from failing further. She had to get back to Yharnam, fix her mistakes and finish the hunt, and then…well, she'd think about it. But she had a lot of time.

She followed him. She was still full of questions, but he walked so quickly trying to dodge her that it took an effort for her to catch up with him. As she did, he began to speak: "I've sated your curiosity about me, but you haven't sated mine…can you now? You told me you came from Lozh…tell me more about it? Only if it pleases you, of course. The best conversations are had by talking with agreement."

It was a fair demand, since he'd answered her questions, though it sounded a bit off. She would give only a little information. "I don't have much of a past. I lived with my family for most of my childhood. This is the first time I've had any 'action' in my life—besides going hunting with my father, that is." The kind that made other people die because of her. "My life was pretty boring before I got to Yharnam. Outside of the hunting."

"Not a problem. Tell me about your time in Yharnam, then. Has the city treated you well? Probably not. Yharnam is such a cruel mistress. But tell me about the hunters, anything else that's interesting. Being away from her so long means little news." If he wanted to talk about Yharnam and her initiation as a hunter, she would answer. He might be crazy, but he'd answered her questions, though he could have killed her after the fight with Ludwig, not to mention this one. She'd tell him, then, about how the city was—nobody alive, taken by beasts, thanks to the appearance of a blood moon and her leading a beast to the haven. She'd skip that part, and when she became a Vileblood. She wasn't proud of it—in fact, she was horrified of what she'd become when she aligned with the Undying Queen. So she told him about her arrival and more, but some things, of course, remained unsaid.

* * *

"Interesting, very interesting. Pull that lever, if you could."

They'd returned to where they found the skull, and she'd told him everything, excluding her travels to Cainhurst, and leading a mysterious man to the haven that probably looked like a beast in hiding to any sane being. She also left out a very important part—her dying and the hunter dream with doll and Gehrman. She had never told to anyone. She didn't know why, but she felt it was better that way.

"Besides the fact that you didn't tell me heavy chunks of your story, and lied or changed some of the facts, still very interesting, very interesting."

How did he know she hadn't told the whole story? Maybe she talked in her sleep—but she didn't sleep, only blacked out. Maybe he'd taken something from her, but after falling in the water of the castle all she had left were her clothes, and they were only hunter clothes, though shot through with holes and rips.

"How did I know you were lying? Not lying, but omitting the most important parts, that's a better definition. Simple. You're panicking now, looking at your clothes and wondering if I'd taken anything or noticed anything odd about them."

She stopped. That was clever—he could be crazy, but he was clever. In that case, she would tell him something she'd done, but not something too horrible…

"Of course, you're omitting the parts where you became part of house Sangre, or Cainhurst, more commonly, or Vileblood, as popularized by the Church. You also didn't mention you were responsible for someone's death—a child, I presume? And you've killed some Masters of hunter workshops…I don't think I'm forgetting anything—well, there is something else, but it's tied to the question…"

At that moment, the hunter's face was the exact definition of shocked. She was incapable of answering, whether because of the way he'd figured out what she'd done without any clues or the uncaring tone of his voice as he said what she'd done, she didn't know. The shock colored her next words, made them sound broken: "How…how did…did you know?"

"Simple. You have more than one pendant around your neck; I noticed while carrying you away from Ludwig's body. Pendants are usually reminders of fond memories, but they aren't those, no, they are badges. Hunter badges are only given to members of one particular workshop, or rarely, found on the ground. The Cainhurst badge is only given to Vilebloods. About the child—that was a guess. I had no clear evidence, but the ribbon on your arm is too small to belong to a woman, and white is commonly a symbol of female children, of purity. A hunter outside of the Church wouldn't use white, and most hunters are utilitarian; all pieces of cloth have a purpose. So the white ribbon of a child that you looked at when I asked you to go ahead is more than a memento. I guessed it was a reminder of a mistake, because what more can a hunter carry? Blood vials, to be honest, and bullets, but that put a heavy weight on you, and what mistake is heavier than death? Now, would you please tell me the entirety of the story?"

She had few blood vials and bullets, she was still in shock, and it would probably be normal if she decided to attack. A hunter was always ready. But she told him anyway.

It took some time, and she looked at him all the while, watching for any reaction. He stood there, just listening, no accusatory or crazy comments, and she didn't try to hide anything, especially since he'd probably just catch her anyway. "Well, you certainly had a full night…Vilebloods, Executioners, Hunter of Hunters, the Mensis School, Byrgenwerth, and the Choir…strange. Some hunters would die before meeting even one of those groups, but you did it all in one night."

There was still one thing she hadn't told him—she hadn't said a word about the Hunter's Dream, or the Doll and Gehrman. She told the stories without mentioning any of it. She didn't know why, but she felt it was imperative that no one knew about the Dream.

The altar elevator arrived, and they entered it. She didn't want to be in such close quarters with a hunter, but what else could she do? He was her only way out of here, and she needed directions. Going alone would be dangerous, and if she let him go, he could ambush her. So she would go with him, and hopefully he wouldn't talk about what she'd said. Then she'd ask directions, apologize, and prepare herself in case he decided to attack her for her mistakes. _Yes, that would work,_ she thought as he began to speak. "Your story explained things much more clearly, and you say it began in Yharnam, not before…that is the key. Tell me, have you discovered the right question?"

What? _What?_ She started to scream, forgetting that she didn't want to create any more problems in this already-bad situation. "Have you heard what I told you? I killed kids, other hunters, and became addicted to blood, and that's your observation? _What is the right question? Are you out of your mind!?"_

He was unfazed, and she knew nothing she did would cause him to lose his aloofness. "Still, you don't see, though it is right in front of you…well, perhaps inside would be a better term. It doesn't matter what you did. What matters is what you will do."

"Did you hear me? I killed—"

"Yes, I heard you," he interrupted. "Killed. Past. Simply, the action is over. It doesn't continue; it stays in the past. Why stay there when there is a future? You won't gain anything. Look ahead, not before."

So he didn't care what she did, but what she would do. She needed time to think about what was happening. How could he simply not care? Of course, he was crazy—maybe he didn't understand what she'd done. It was better to change the topic, then. If he understood, she wouldn't want to be in this situation, with few blood vials and bullets; she would need to be in a better position. She had to be as subtle as possible.

"So…Laurence. Do you know what he means?" He looked at her—of course he noticed the subject change—before he started to explain.

"He did give excellent speeches to us Church hunters, and was ambidextrous, if I'm not mistaken. He liked his coffee with sugar, and this strange new drink called cocoa. It cost us a fortune to get the sugar alone, but cocoa was nearly impossible to find. I wonder what it tasted like…he once said that with milk and sugar it tasted like strawberries. Strange. What would make it taste like that? Maybe strawberries are cocoa that didn't grow right? They became red and small—"

"No, you've got it all wrong. You told me that Ludwig was denying his essence, and existence, right? So what is Laurence?"

"The more boring part. People are more interesting than beasts. They talk, they change, they have personalities. Beasts are just killing machines. But Laurence is simply knowledge, or, to be more precise, the seeking out of knowledge. He was addicted to knowing everything. He had to have an explanation, a reason. Why do some beasts have fur and others don't? He'd research it, seek the answer obsessively. Every stone must be upturned for the truth, never mind the cost…and that was his downfall. He was so paranoid that he lost himself. His obsession grew and grew until it consumed him as a fire consumes a house; a fire that would burn just as his desire for knowledge, eternal and constant. That is why he burns, and can only be awoken with his head.

"The head is the part of the body where the brain resides, and contains information and knowledge, something to make the sleeping beast awaken again. His was cut off when he died and used as adornment for the Church, some told me. His desire for knowledge was so intense that it consumed him and made him a beast. To fall to beasthood for seeking—any hunter can do that. The desire to know everything is rare in hunters, but it can still happen."

It made sense, but when he spoke she swore she heard something that she'd heard before, that he'd said before and now. "You're a Church hunter!"

"And you are a Yharnam hunter. So what? Look, the chains are being moved by quite an interesting mechanism. It uses the force of the chains and—"

"Answer me! You're a Church hunter, right?"

"'You're a Church hunter'…you use the present tense, implying that I'm still part of the Church, but am I? How long has it been since I've spoken to one of their members? I can't be part of an organization like that. That's not to say that I would be with them if I was capable of contacting them again…so, with that, you should have used the past tense. I was a Church hunter, but that is in the past. It's over. Though, maybe in my case it would have been better if I'd stayed with the Church…"

She simply looked at him. The altar elevator stopped and as he got out, she followed him in shock, trying to make sense of what he'd told her. After some time she reached the conclusion that he'd been part of the Church and it was best left it that. He was helping her, after all…most of the time…and she was much guiltier then him.

"Now go, hunter. Climb the tower to the top and change the ways." With that, he stepped back into the elevator and it began to descend. "I have other unfinished business, the kind that only an old hunter can accomplish. Find the clues to the 'right question' and pull the lever at the top."

She ascended the stairs, still confused, He didn't touch on the subject of what she revealed. Just 'climb this tower.' She looked back as she advanced, to where he was descending in the elevator. He didn't care what had she done? Why? But she had to continue; she had a nightmare to escape and if he didn't show any reaction, that was good….right?

By the good blood, this place was gigantic. How high up did it go? There were so many stairs, but where was she? It didn't look like anywhere in Yharnam. The architecture was the same, but the place itself was strange. But no matter. She had to climb to the top before she'd get any answers. And once she had them, what would be the problem?

* * *

He'd managed to get the missing rune; dangerous to use, but it could be useful for him in some way. Patches hadn't appeared yet, though time wasn't a concept he followed—but now that things were moving, it would be better if he arrived quickly. He needed confirmation. All of this would end soon and he needed to know if he was right. Could it be? The chance was small; they'd never approached each other in that way and she never noticed his love for her, but…maybe. Some of the clues pointed in another, more obvious direction, and the hunter's question was central to it, but there was no way it could be right. He needed the document and everything would be clear. Her story simply gave him more information and confirmed more things, even what she didn't tell, her not saying it was crucial. In the moment, there was the right question, the one he feared was true, and another that he hoped was the right one. For the first time in a long time, he hoped that he was wrong. It would prove that. It had to.

Now to find the hunter, to see if she'd reached the top. She'd probably already done it; she was very anxious to go to the tower—but why? Maybe she wanted to get away from this dream as fast as she could. That made sense.

The elevator had reached the tower floor, and as he stepped out he saw her, sitting on the stairs with her head down, the blunderbuss tossed on the ground in front of her and the Holy Moonlight Sword at her side, looking like they'd been thrown. She wasn't in good shape—her shoulders were slumped and she looked at the ground with a particular expression, the one he'd seen in recruits after they finished their first hunt. Something traumatic had happened. Had she figured out the right question? Maybe he was right from the beginning and it wasn't the two of them, but…his despair…would he go to those lengths? Of course not…right?

Despair isn't the most horrible thing, but time. Time destroys and corrodes everything, even the will of man. In eternity, a monkey could write the tale of the Chosen Undead. In eternity, anyone could break. He knew that all too well. How long would it take him to break? If this hunter hadn't appeared in two hundred years, a thousand? How long until he was like the rest of them?

He shoved his fear to the side. The document hadn't arrived, so he must know what happened to the hunter. "Did you get to the top? Not the roof, of course, that's impossible, but to the top, the mechanism, did you do it?" She didn't respond. "If you did, you have to kill Maria to progress, but there are some…leftovers, as I call them, in the way."

Her eyes refocused, though she didn't look at Simon, and she began to speak. "This place…it wasn't like this before the nightmare, right? It can't be possible…"

Yes, it was clear now what had happened to her. "Everything that happened here happened on the waking world first. Nothing you've seen was the creation of the nightmare; the city was, strangely i, but not this place. Everything was preserved."

"It can't be true. This place can't be real. It can't exist in the real world. It's…I don't know what it is, but humans can't do that, they can't."

"This was the true face of the Church. The experiments with one goal, to—"

"To transcend humanity. To make man reach the next evolutionary step," she interrupted. Yes, the reason he'd begun to doubt the Church. He didn't believe the documents, but after seeing this place, he thought he was right to have his doubts. Maybe too right.

"Everything here had the purpose of advancing humanity, no matter the cost."

"The cost _never_ mattered to them. This can't be real. I saw humans so altered by the experiments that their heads had become bloated, like they had bags on them. They pulsated and bled but couldn't be removed. I saw some of them still talking, screaming for me to kill them even though they didn't have mouths. I tried. I hit them with the sword, but they'd just die and come back no matter how many times I did it. They just returned, screaming but not making a sound. I can hear them even now.

"By the gods, this place can't be real. Humans can't do that to other humans. Beasts don't do it, they only kill for blood, but this? None of this has any justification. The experiments, the tests, the substances. I read some of their diaries. The scientists, the researchers, they did it without hesitation or fear. Honestly, some of them were even happy… _happy_ , hahahaha. They'd have the perfect lab tests. Science would advance greatly thanks to them. They didn't even let the patients keep their names. They put numbers on them and they didn't even care; they weren't humans to them. One of them said he didn't like violence and hated the hunters. He was a pacifist. He was tasked with making sure the experiments with bone placement worked. He said the bones of children or older were easy because they broke quickly and were easy to put in place. Next to that, he said he'd go on a date with his neighbor, a beautiful tall woman with green eyes. He described his neighbor on the same page where he talked about how easy it is to break children's arms, how easily they fit in the molds. Some of the beings were children. I could tell by how small they were. They begged, implored me to end it and I tried and tried, but I couldn't free them.

"If this place is real, why do we fight them? For humanity's protection? We're a group of monsters, the worst kind…killing beasts? The beasts aren't capable of this. They can't match this cruelty, nor can the Old Ones…"

"We fight for the future, not the past.''

When she looked at him, there was no anger. Her eyes were empty, not understanding. "We aren't heroes or knights. Our job isn't to fight the problems of this world, it's to clean up the messes. By removing the threats, we allow of the future to happen. It doesn't matter what has happened but what will happen, and by killing beasts we allow for a new future that won't have the mistakes of the past."

She looked at him with a sad smile on her face. She wasn't listening to him, she was still trapped in her world. "The nightmare will only end when this place does, as you say. I killed the failed experiments, and some of the sane…patients talked about Lady Maria. She took care of them and tried to free them. She was their only hope and she didn't do anything because they threatened to kill them all if she tried. I wonder if it was worth it, to leave them alive and suffering…"

"Living is always worse then being dead. Don't forget, by being alive, you can still change things. Kill Maria. She's keeping a secret, the reason behind all this. She's trying to protect it out of fear that someone will reveal it; she fears what will happen if others discover it. Foolish. Hiding and keeping the truth a secret won't solve the problem, but she was always stubborn, and she'll defend it to the end. Revealing it is the only way to advance."

The hunter nodded, picked up her weapons and prepared to climb the accursed stairs one more time, but before she could, Simon stopped her. "Hunter, before you go, answer me: why do you fight?''

She thought. What did she fight for? Going home? No, she fought for her actions. She looked at the ribbon on her arm. Yes, for the children she killed and more. His voice reached her thoughts. "Don't fight for them, fight for yourself.''

She turned and looked at him angrily. "I killed them. It's my fault. I'll make their death mean something."

"You gain nothing by doing that." He matched her expression with a blank one. "They will not return, nor can more death repay what you have done."

She threw back her head and laughed. Did he really think she didn't know her mistakes couldn't be repaid? "I know that. I know what I've done is impossible to replace. But what choice do I have? Simply forget what I've done? I won't do that. Something has to be done about my actions."

"What will you gain by fighting for them? Nothing. They're dead. Look at the future. What will you do after this hunt? Fight until your death to repay your actions? Fight for something that matters. Fight for your future. End this hunt and you will pay your debts and leave Yharnam. Live life without being a hunter."

It was an interesting thought—not being a hunter anymore, rediscovering the memories she'd lost, but… "What about my actions? I can't be forgiven, and neither can this place. There is a debt to be paid."

Now it was his turn to laugh. "Didn't you tell me there is no Yharnam anymore? If this hunt ends, there will be no more beasts or blood addictions. All will be over. The people who created this place will be dead, their efforts and mistakes and information forgotten. More importantly, you didn't commit these atrocities, so why is it your fault? For being human? Just end this hunt and everything will be over."

She'd never thought about that. She was ready to carry the burden of this tower, these mistakes, but…what was her fault? She didn't need to avenge these people; they were already avenged. The blood moon had cleaned out the entire town, which she'd check when she returned. And more importantly, he was right. If the city was gone and the hunt over, why continue fighting? She climbed the stairs to with renewed vigor. First Maria, then the next pillars, end the hunt, it would be over. She would always carry her guilt, but she could try and resolve it by doing something else. Hunters wouldn't exist after this night. Perhaps medicine…she'd need to be a nun, or get back home and take money to help others. Now she only needed Maria to be dead for this to happen, and she would do it.

* * *

She opened the door, heavy as all the ones in Yharnam were, with two hands, climbing the stairs behind it until she was in the back of a giant clock, in a huge room where they most likely did the maintenance. It was clean, no obstructions, just the wood floor and…a chair and small table to the side. There was a corpse in the armchair dressed in hunter's clothes that looked well-crafted, different from the common cloth. Lady Maria, perhaps? She approached the armchair, nothing that the corpse's wrists were cut. She moved closer, extended her hand to touch it, and then—

The corpse's hand jumped to her arm and held it there as it advanced in her direction, faster than she thought it could. Its mouth was close to hear ear, and it spoke: "A corpse…should be left well alone."

It released her and the hunter stepped back, readying hear sword. The corpse stood tall and the face…it was a perfect copy of the Doll's face. The same nose, same hair color and style. The only difference was that it looked alive. What did this mean? Lady Maria was the Doll? Of course not. The Doll probably looked like Lady Maria—that had to be who the corpse was. The hunter clothes, made of only the best materials, gave it away. There was a sheathed sword in the corpse's hand and she didn't know where it had come from. "Oh, I know very well," she continued. "How the secrets beckon so sweetly. Only an honest death will cure you now."

With that, she removed the sword and separated it into two, a small daggerlike one on the left and a large one on the right. "Liberate you from your wild curiosity."

Strangely, Lady Maria moved towards her very slowly. The hunter wasn't used to that, being more accustomed to beasts that immediately attacked. She moved to the right, slowly getting closer to Maria—then it happened in an instant. Lady Maria attacked with both swords and the hunter dodged backwards, attempting a thrust attack with her sword. Maria used her smaller sword to move the hunter's weapon aside, opening her guard, and delivered a slash with her other sword. The hunter was hit in the chest, cutting her clothes and hitting the skin. She couldn't parry but she recovered quickly, though Maria didn't stop the attack. It explored her opening, settled on a thrust attack, and a strange sound echoed through the tower. The hunter dodged backwards, but she felt the blade enter her skin.

She looked down. The thrust had only been done with the right sword, but where was the other? It wasn't on the left—so it was in the right sword. Somehow, she could unite them to create a larger one with a bigger range, which was why it hadn't cut her too deeply, though it hurt when it was removed. She dodged the next attack early. The hunter put a hand on her sword and began to put some the aura into it, just enough to emit a green beam as the hunter slashed in front of her. Maria, with no time to dodge, put her sword in front of her so the hit from the beam wasn't as strong. But the hunter used this opportunity, and this time she could only try to defend as the hunter's attack broke her guard on the first hit, opening a large wound on her chest. She dodged the following sword attack, but not before breaking Maria's shoulder.

It was a simple attack, the right sword followed by the left, then the large one, with the sword being used as more of a hammer. The high attack entered Maria's shoulder, but she managed to dodge the rest. Maria returned with the same slash, but the hunter dodged to the right and attacked. Maria managed to dodge, but took some damage, and the hunter was prepared for her next thrust. The blade swung in the direction of the Holy Moonlight Sword, the two clanging together. How was she defending herself with such a small sword? Then, suddenly, she retreated without any opening.

The hunter didn't have any time to inject a blood vial. Every time she tried, Maria would jump to her and attack, preventing her from healing herself. She could tell that Maria was slowly damaging her and she need to create a window where she could heal herself. She did have one choice: the attack where she used both swords was very open. Perhaps she could parry it…

She prepared. The attack was coming, and she moved to the left as she shot and missed. Instead of jumping, Maria caught her in a thrust attack and the right blade entered her skin. She was going to finish with the dagger, but the hunter shot. The parry worked: the sword was removed from her flesh and now Maria was open. The hunter put her hand backwards and thrust it into her belly, destroying the clothes and flesh easily as she closed her hand.

Her enemy was sent backwards, and she injected herself with two blood vials, feeling much better by the time Maria got up. Instead of pursuing her, she stuck both swords into her chest, impaling herself while the hunter looked on, confused. She barely had time to wonder what she was doing before Maria exploded in a shower of blood. The swords had now been extended and coated in blood, and she didn't show any reaction to having impaled herself. She leveled her right sword horizontally and—flew, there was no other word for it. She moved so quickly that the hunter was barely able to jump back, but it didn't matter anyway. The extended blade cut her chest, but she managed to inject a vial. _Okay, all of her attacks will be extended now._ But she noticed the blood that gave the extra range took a few seconds to mimic the attack.

This would be a harder fight now, she thought as Maria prepared to attack again. But she had to defeat her. She had to end this nightmare for her. For her future.

* * *

The hunter was fighting Maria now. Good. The way seeing the tower had broken her was unexpected. Thankfully, he managed to get her out of that state, or she would have entered a darker path. Long ago, he'd done the same thing when he discovered. It took years to continue, and he still thought about it constantly, though the horror had passed long ago. It was just a fact now. He'd lost the capacity for horror—but this place? It always make him doubt his conviction. But he knew that he was right. This place wouldn't exist in the future; this was a museum. Yharnam didn't exist anymore, and with that no more Astral Clock Tower. Only this nightmare had to end for the memory of this horrid place to end.

A series of soft, quick footsteps snapped him out of his depressing thoughts (fitting ones, as all would end soon), and he looked in their direction. It was Patches, moving closer until he could reach him with one leg extended, the document rolled in it. He took it. Words weren't needed. Patches waited as he opened it, awaiting a next request.

 _The City of Yharnam, its council, and the Church, recognize that this…_

It was a hunter contract, a new one. It was hers. The only contract in ten years, according to Patches. He didn't have the notion of time in this nightmare, but his eyes moved down to the signature—and there was the proof he needed. All the clues fell into place. By the gods, he'd done it. That made his conversation with her far more important. It was good that he had helped her not go down the path… but now he would have to tell the truth, or she would go the way of his friend, and he wouldn't allow it. He would need to deliver a message to her. It was the only way of giving her the most important thing…

 **Until next time, I need to sleep... so tired**


	17. Chapter 17

The sword was in its sheath. Move closer and wait—one, tw—it left a huge explosion of blood and fire where she'd been, as if the fluid itself had become flame. Perhaps that was not the case; blood blades were unique and worked strangely. This one, the Rakuyo, wasn't even a blood blade itself, merely a legendary katana that required high dexterity to wield. So how was Maria using blood attacks against her? Sticking a sword in your gut wouldn't make it one, no matter how hard you tried.

The hunter swung the Holy Moonlight Sword in a high arc as she ran towards Maria. She was far away, but the green beam that sluiced from the sword made it possible to hit her. It landed on her chest and burned her clothes, but other than that she didn't react, just advanced slowly. The hunter was the first to close the distance, and she felt some of her hair burn as she ducked to dodge a horizontal attack. The sword descended and she spun to the left, attacking. The blade was heavy and hard to move with one hand, but the results had always been satisfactory—except against Maria.

Instead of feeling the cut as the blow landed, she only heard the sound of metal on metal. The katana had stopped it. Maria didn't leave any openings; she was prepared to block and attack near simultaneously. She pushed back on the sword and forced an opening, slicing the hunter with the small blade in a diagonal slash. The fire burned her chest and face, but she ignored the pain. Maria was already prepared to attack with the Rakuyo, but the hunter shot with her blunderbuss. It didn't parry the attack as she'd hoped, but it did stagger her, giving the hunter time to attack again, try to exploit…the sword clashed together and the hunter put both hands on her sword, pressing the katana towards the ground. She held the position seemingly without any difficulty as she reached for the pistol at her hip. The hunter noticed and increased her force, but to no avail. Without worry, Maria picked up the pistol and pointed at the hunter's face. She moved out of the way at the last moment as the gun fired, but it still hit the right of her neck, leaving a hole that immediately wept blood. The hunter's strength was waning, but she still held her weapon even when the katana pushed upwards. The gun was aimed at her chest and fired again while a sword fell…

She was hurt, that much was obvious. Not only was she covered in small cuts, but now she was missing part of her neck and was quickly losing consciousness due to lack of blood. Before she could black out and die, she saw something—her sword at the top of her head, Maria in front of her, aiming at her chest to deliver the final blow. She was open. She just needed to let the sword descend. That was it. No tricks. Just let it fall. Her body obeyed and the sword swung downward; she didn't even notice how much strength was put into the hit. She only knew the blade encountered resistance, and she felt a huge pain in her chest as it continued its descent.

Her vision was strange. There wasn't a clock at the end of the room, it looked like she was on the ceiling…but no, she was on the floor. How did she get here, why were her neck and chest hurting, why were her clothes soaked? Was she doing something to the doll? Fighting her? Why would she fight the doll? Her throat was so dry. Perhaps an injection would help her; blood always sated her thirst. She dug around in her clothes, coming up with only one vial. As she injected it, she wondered where the others had gone, but it was all starting to become clear.

But how was she alive? She'd lost part of her neck and been shot in the chest. She should have been dead, not merely unconscious. She'd hit Maria, she felt it, that must have given her the strength to heal some of the wounds, but the bullet hole….She pushed herself up until she was seated, legs heavy. She'd check the wounds first. She felt nothing around her heart or her rib cage, strangely, though that would've been the best place for a shot. But farther upwards, the brush of her hand brought pain with it. Recent wounds, unhealed. It had to be where the bullet entered, though it had only hit bone, not arteries or organs. That was good. In time, her body would heal it.

When she passed her finger over the place on her neck where she'd been shot, the skin had grown back, but it felt off—smoother, more sensitive. She could tell exactly how crude the material of her gloves was. The healing was still in process; she'd need another blood vial to completely heal, since any cut there would open the wound right back up. She stood, legs weak, and looked around. There it was. Maria on the ground, a fair distance from her and surrounded by a large pool of blood. The Holy Moonlight Sword was close by, and the corpse had her back towards the hunter. She was dead…right? From what she'd seen in this hunt, she knew to always check the corpse twice.

The Rakuyo was in the ground—the katana half, at least. She doubted Maria would let the weapon leave her hands. The only way hunters part with their weapons was in death. She couldn't find her blunderbuss, but Maria's gun was close to her. She moved towards it heavily, not taking her eyes off Maria. She needed blood vials badly.

She was next to the gun, and lowered to pick it up. She didn't stop to look at the fallen enemy; no more would she be tricked by fake deaths. Without glancing down, she checked the gun with her fingers, and the trigger was responding and charged. She picked up the weapon in her left hand and dug in her clothes with the right, looking for ammunition. She found only one more bullet; the rest had to have been in the blunderbuss. She need to check if Maria was dead, then search her pockets for blood vials and figure out why she'd come here. According to Simon, killing Maria was the way to escape the nightmare. But how? The body might have some sort of key, but first she needed to check.

Aiming at the body, she pulled the trigger, the recoil forcing her to step back. She was weak. The bullet hit the corpse's back and it didn't move, so she recharged her weapon, putting the last bullet in without thought. It appeared she was dead. Another bullet to the head, though, to be…completely sure. She took aim an—

It was fast. One second there was a corpse and the next Maria was in front of her and she could feel a blade in her gut. Her face was close to the hunter's ear as the blade pushed deeper, and she whispered "What are you? Just a c…"

The hunter didn't listen. She pointed the pistol instead. They were close enough that she wouldn't be able to escape the shot. And she didn't. Maria staggered back from the point blank shot. To be honest, it was amazing she was even still standing. The hunter didn't waste any time. She threw away the empty gun and, without thinking, and moved to where the katana was laying on the ground. As she picked it up, she heard a familiar sound behind her. She whirled with the katana in her hands, and two blades collided.

Instinct had saved her before and now it did again. She could tell that Maria wasn't applying as much strength, that her blade was the dagger extended by the blood coating, and she'd lost her left arm, as well as the shoulder. The attack had more impact than she'd thought, but she still used all of her strength on the clash and Maria pushed too; she still had some fight left and wasn't backing down or showing any signs of fatigue. The hunter felt weak, blood pouring from the wound in her gut as the fight continued. She could try to use two hands on the katana, but her strength diminished every moment. There was one thing she could do, though. Use her fists. And her left hand was free.

The punch wasn't strong. But it didn't need to be strong. It only needed to land, and it did. Maria stumbled in surprise, and the hunter was ready for the opening. Maria stopped. She didn't recover or prepare an attack, she simply let her weapon fall to the ground, her hand going to her chest where, among her ruined clothes, a katana stuck through. She could do nothing but stare as blood started to pour from the wound. Her remaining hand tried to grab the sword, but she never reached it, just fell to her knees, the blood coming out of her mouth now as well. She fell to the ground. Her mouth was wet with blood, but she still managed her last words:

"…roke my promise, I didn't protect any of you…."

Maria, protégé of Gehrman, the strongest hunter in the workshop, Cainhurst runaway, heir of the noble house of Cainhurst and its lesser houses, chief of security of the Astral Clock Tower, died on the cold floor of the tower alone. She died with all her wishes and desires unfilled, regret carrying her away as she took her dying breath. Such was a fitting end for a hunter.

The tombstone was strange—or rather, the rock shaped like a tombstone was strange. One couldn't call it a tombstone, since there was nothing actually engraved on it. Of course, in the hunter's nightmare there were hundreds like it littering the place, but this was the only blank one. No words, just polished soapstone. It would be impossible for any human to discover who lay there. Exactly how she would have wanted. Plain. Simple. The location was perfect, with a stunning view of the twilight. But it still needed something to complete it. He reached into his worn vest and removed a sunflower, carefully placing it in front of the tombstone. With her favorite flower, it was complete. Everything she had asked for when she died…

But who had made it? It was a good question, one he didn't know the answer to, though only one he could think of who would do it. Only one that would have the time to remember a dying wish. The Crow was too busy with its duties in the city, the other was probably looking for vermin to destroy. That left the Lovesick. It had to be him, or he had to have asked someone to make one. He always listened to what she had to say, and he was one of the few she'd told what to do if she died. It wasn't strange; hunters often told their close friends how to bury them if they died, or the master of their Workshop. It was a common task, and he was both a friend and her master, so he would have known. And his affection for her? He must've decorated every word she said…

While he was lost reminiscing, he could hear footsteps behind him. A while later the hunter caught up, wearing new clothes that looked similar to her old ones, but older. She carried two weapons, the holy Moonlight Sword on her back and the Rakuyo at her hip. Most of her face was obscured by cloth; he could only see her eyes, so similar to her…

What had he done?

"That's the reason for all this. A corpse." On the beach below them, there were remains. They didn't look human or animal, just a mass of white flesh that resembled marble more than skin. Strange things appeared on it as they watched in silence.

"There are only two pillars missing for the nightmare to end," the hunter said.

"Yes. Go to the beach and you will find one. I'll take care of the other." She looked bewildered, but he didn't stop. "I know it personally. Think of it as a clash of minds, a fight between different visions of the world. Two ideologies, if you wish."

He could see her smile behind her mask as she turned away. "The secret was this place. Hunters were responsible for this. They helped the researchers interrogate and lock away inhabitants for their experiments. Maria was protecting this place so it would be found again. Perhaps she didn't want this suffering to repeat, or to keep what she'd done a secret. The papers I found say only that she started to comply after the worst had happened. So until then, was she fine with what happened here?"

She stopped. A few minutes passed, the only sound rain hitting their hats. "Killing all the pillars will end this nightmare, but…do we deserve it? Even from the beginning we were monsters. If we don't accept it we'll just fall like Ludwig. Maybe this place is necessary to punish us—"

"This nightmare isn't something we deserve," he interrupted. He couldn't let those thoughts fester. "This is the old hunters' mistake. We aren't responsible for their sins, only ours."

"There has to be some payment for what our ancestors have done. Something. All that happened here and in the Astral Clock Tower can't be forgotten…mistakes don't vanish because others forget." Her eyes darted to the ribbon on her arm. "They don't."

"Then don't forget this nightmare when this is all over. Don't forget it if you think it's important, but don't live by this mistake. Don't rot in the past."

But she already was. She couldn't forget what she'd done, or what the old hunters had. Why was he so keen to not make this the responsibility of the new hunters? "Why do you think that we don't deserve that? Hunters in the present are the same as in the past. Look at the executioners. The burning of Old Yharnam. The present hunters are making the same mistakes."

"You have to look forward. If you're in the past, you can't advance. It's the only way to surpass what we've done."

"What makes you think the future will be better? Nothing has shown that it will. There's no future, anyway. There's no more Yharnam, and there are less than half a dozen hunters alive. We have to try to amend because soon there won't be anyone left to…"

"There's always a future. There's always a choice. Things aren't set in stone. One day you'll see it…"

Silence fell. The conversation reminded her of Eileen telling her about Yharnam's past. She wanted her to know, so what had happened wouldn't be forgotten. To carry this…he was delusional about the future, but he was right that there was one. Not for the hunters, but for her. Her memories and motives were hazy, but after this she would go home and finally discover what she'd forgotten because of the blood. She needed to live, not be stuck in the hunt. About that he was right. Yes. She'd go back and be away from the hunt. Maybe writing about Yharnam would make others see what had happened, what she had done.

"So will you tell me what the next pillars represent, or leave it a mystery? You've become serious lately…"

He laughed quickly. "I'm always serious. The only difference is that you're understanding me better, don't you think, Hunter?" It wasn't a lie, he was rubbing off on her. Sometimes she noticed herself imitating his crazy connections and questions.

"You're not wrong, but I'm not going to ask what the taste of an apple is at random."

"It's an important question. You still have much to learn."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, and apples aren't fruits. So important for the hunt."

He remained silent, pondering. Perhaps he would talk about pears now. "The next pillars are the reason for all this. The center cause, the main engine. The other…it isn't important; I'll take care of it." She'd ask him again what that meant after she killed the next 'pillar.' She'd gotten used to him withholding information from her, and apparently he already knew everything. She didn't like it.

It was important for her not to know what he would do now. She would never notice. It was next to…inside, to be more precise, but if not, things would stay the same. He knew the path she'd take. He'd planted the idea of a future in her head. Hope. He smirked. Of course it would hold, but still…

"Hold my weapon, please." He removed his sword and pointed the cable in her direction.

"Why?" She looked confused. So much like her. A hunter would never be unarmed, and besides, he always had his sword close by.

"It'll be quick. Just hold it." Maybe he was giving it to her? But what would he use against the last enemy? Best to take it and find out why he asked instead of asking herself. He only answered when he liked anyway. The sword wasn't as heavy as it looked, and it was slightly curved, making it easy to deliver swipes and the following thrusts. It would make an unpredictable weapon. She laughed. "Now shoot an arrow, please." She flinched when he put one in her hand, but didn't attack on instinct. Instead she pressed the mechanism to change the weapon to its bow form and sent the arrow flying straight into a tree. He extended his hand and she gave him the weapon, which transformed back quickly.

"Why did you make me do that?"

He looked at her, drew a long breath. "Didn't you notice?"

"What? There's a beast nearby?"

"Tell me, how did you know how to use my sword?"

She looked at the transformed bow, then back to him. How? She'd been able to change it, but where did she get the information? "Well…I probably read about your weapon in papers while I was in Yharnam. And, you know, luck…" The excuse fell flat.

"My schematics have never been put in a paper. A friend designed it and never made ant copies. In fact, there aren't even schematics. She built it in just a day, but as she finished she became incapable of putting it on paper. Only I know the secrets of my weapon, so I ask you again, how did you know how to transform and use it?"

How did she know? She couldn't even come up with a semblance of an answer. Simon put the point of his sword on the ground, moving it around. It took her a moment to realize he was forming symbols. When he stepped back, the ground read ложь.

"What did you just write?"

"A word," he said as he put his sword back in his belt, "that you don't recognize. Or do you?"

"Of course I don't. And what about the sword? You can't just ask me that and move on!"

"This word is pronounced Lozh, more or less. Do you know what it means?"

"The name of my city. My home. But so what? It can easily be written in another language—"

"False."

"Do you think I'm lying? Let me fin—"

"It means false. That's the name of your city. False." She stopped, confused, but he wasn't done. "You said you came from the south, but there isn't any city called Lozh or False in the region—don't talk, I'm not finished—stay quiet and let me tell you some things I've noticed. You claimed there was a three-story library where you lived, but the third one was symbolic. Even with the invention of the printing press, books are still expensive, so a three-story library would mean you were very rich. However, your father was a common hunter—a hunter of animals, not beasts. So how did your family afford this library?" She tried to interrupt again, but he just talked right over her.

"The only place I know with a three-story library is a certain castle: the one that belonged to the Vilebloods—I can't call them by their real names. They're the only ones outside the Church to have enough money for a library that large. But you can't be a Vileblood. They don't marry commoners, and your father was a commoner…or so you claim. But your father and mother look like two different beings. The wealthy don't take their children to hunt in the woods without dogs and horses. And you said your father taught you how to use weapons, but that explains almost nothing. He would know how to handle a rifle and a pistol, but powder ones, not ones using blood bullets. Still, your movements in fighting are extremely fluid. You picked up the workings of my bowblade, as well as the Holy Moonlight Sword. Ludwig took years to master that sword. And the hammer you used is complicated as well, but you still had no problems. As if you already had this knowledge." This time when he stopped, she didn't try to answer. She was trying to process everything. How did she know how to use the weapons? And her parents…yes, the library in her memories was similar to the castle's…and the tricorn hat she'd had when she left home looked familiar, but where had she seen it before?

"Of course, my first thought was that you were simply lying about your education, but then more problems presented themselves. In a night, you killed your first being—a being you believed to be human—you almost fell to the beasts, you met Old Ones and hunted huge beasts in Yharnam. All in just one night. And the guilt over killing snapped you quickly, don't you think? I've seen those who took months or even years to realize what they'd done. Even worse, your fear was quickly forgotten in favor of looking for a way to stop the fall. Other men have broken, some have even killed themselves, when faced with this fear. Your motivations changed. Look for paleblood, then kill Old Ones, but at any moment did you stop to think about what you were doing?

"But none of this was what made me ask you if you knew the right question. What did was your parents. Your father was a hunter, your mother took care of a large home that belonged to the family, as well as other minor families. But answer me: what did your father like to eat?"

"My father…I don't know, meat? That we got…from the hunts…"

"Why are you pausing? You've started to see, haven't you?"

"You're crazy! I'm not seeing anything and you can't prove anything! So what if other people took time to break? Maybe I'm just special! Maybe I'm stronger than them! And I learned how to use more difficult weapons after I mastered the easier ones; it's not that big of a stretch!"

"Still, how did you learn to manipulate my blade? What your moth—"

" _I don't know!"_ she screamed, panting and on the edge. Her body was tensed to attack, her back curved and her hands extended like claws. She was cornered. Ready to strike. "The transfusion made me forget everything. The transfusion gave me everything. Memories. Knowledge of the hunt. It was probably the blood of a hunter and a Vileblood…"

"And this is why you can't tell me your parents' names?"

"Of course…I don't need this…the blood, that's why…when this is over, I'll go back to my house, which _isn't_ that castle…and I'll recover everything. You told me, right? Do you remember? I won't be a hunter after this night. There's a life for me out there…"

Simon took a deep breath. He reminded her of Gehrman—worn, tired. He reached inside his clothes and pulled out a roll of paper. "According to you, the transfusion made you forget, gave you the name of your town, taught you to be a hunter, and everything else before that. So tell me, what is this?"

He opened it, revealing a hunter's contract. It looked new, but that was impossible. There hadn't been a new hunter in over a decade. "That's the contract I signed when I came here, but…"

"Read the end of it, hunter."

She took it. At the bottom was her signature. Her name. She screamed when she read it. "This…this is a _lie_! You're _lying! This isn't real!_ " She stopped, her head in her hands as if she could block out what she'd seen, but Simon spoke:

"This was before the transfusion. So let me ask you a question. The right one." In the signature there was one word: Hunter. "What is your name?"

 _Welcome home, good hunter. What is it you desire? Hunter, I too had trouble dealing with the thrill of…simple Hunter…young Hunter…Hunter…_

"Now you see…nameless. That was the real question, the most important one…"

She looked forward, her hands clenching her head so hard that she felt she might die if she let go. They were the only real thing in this moment. They'd never said her name. Always Hunter. Good Hunter. Even Bearer of Blood. But never… "How…why…did this happen…answer me, Simon! No more secrets, answer!" She screamed again, out of frustration and anger. She still couldn't believe it, but there was only this reality. She didn't have a name. A past. So what did she have?

"Workshop leaders can only quit their jobs in death. There were fake death ceremonies, involving a lot of water and a ship, but a hunter who decided to retire was rare. Do you know one who has? Peace claims all, and us? We get the swift release. Early. Others, such as you, don't…" He stopped for a moment. She was trying desperately to piece together something. Anything. "There are no more workshop leaders in the city. Time, and you, took care of them all. But there is one more. The one that made you what you are."

There was a question she could ask. Simple. Easy. "What am I?"

"A hunter." If looks could kill, he'd be dead and no dream could save him. "The best hunter ever conceived. That knows how to handle all weapons, that's agile. If you thought Maria was fast, you should've seen her in her golden years. No family to slow down for, only the hunt on the mind. Why do you think foreigners make good hunters? Even him, becoming crazy and searching for vermin, he was an amazing hunter. The one that abandoned us when she was gone…Before you ask why you had memories of a family, a home, morals, dreams of being a hero—it's simple. A trigger in a pistol. These things motivated you to continue the hunt, until something else captured your attention. Curiosity? Duty? Vengeance? Everything you are is to make you a hunter. Your appearance, too childish and innocent, but it's better than looking like her. And after some time, it became unnecessary. No more people to help, only to kill. What better than a ghost face?"

"What do you mean? I look the same. I've seen in the mirror, and that can't change…but that doesn't matter. Why does it matter that I look like I do?" Even after this revelation, now that she knew she was a tool to be used, she still asked for direction. End this dream, kill the last pillar, be free of this nightmare, then run away. Leave Yharnam and live a life. Continuing the hunt will only further their plans. If this was about creating the perfect hunter, deny them perfection. She wanted, needed, to ask more questions. How was she made? By whom? Why? And he'd said that workshop leaders were only replaced upon death…but she killed all the leaders that were left. But Simon wouldn't talk about something without meaning ( _yes, he would…Cocoa_ ). Gehrman was alive, did she exist to kill him? But he was so weak. Wheelchair-bound. It wouldn't be difficult. Was she to kill him, then assume his place? She needed time, she needed something. Everything had fallen apart. Nothing was true. She needed time away to think. She'd kill the pillar, end this nightmare, but she couldn't start thinking until after that. To even begin would be too much now, but afterwards, she had to face her problems. Everyone needed to pay, but first she would have to get out of here and…something.

The nameless hunter headed off to kill the last pillar. He had expected more questions out of her, but then again, she'd only known commands in her brief life, not profound reflection. She chose to become a Vileblood without much thought, nearly falling in her first big fight. He wanted to reveal more to her, but she might break right there if he did, and he needed someone to end this nightmare. Even if he wanted her to be free and choose, someone had to end it.

Time passed. The tolling of a bell could be heard, emerging from every corner. So he had finally arrived. Good. He would delay him, because if not he might kill the nameless and ruin this liberation. Only delay, of course. It was impossible to stop him.

He was dying, but the hunter missed his last attack due to a wound on his arm. That gave him an opening. A quick thrust in the chest and his enemy collapsed on the ground and died. He had a minute, perhaps only even a few seconds. His vials were gone. Even the strong metal could be destroyed if hit enough times, but he had no arrows available unless he made them with his blood. If he did that, it would bring him too close to death. Still, he had to continue the fight. The hunter's future depended on him. He needed to delay his enemy even though he would only last two or three fights. His legs exploded in pain. The wounds were deep, then. Only one fight.

He appeared again, clad in the skin of a cleric beast, a mace in one hand and a pistol in the other. A well-known figure in the Church.

"I thought you were taller. Probably the horns on that hat you wear. Or perhaps because we associate height with strength? Usually this is corr—"

"It doesn't matter, Simon. What are you doing?" So he was capable of speech? Of course, even beasts spoke.

"I'm simply pointing out a fact. I truly did think you taller, and with a more fitting weapon. The mace would be more suited to a Vileblood, don't you think?" 

"I know you're delaying me, to give your pet more time to kill what I intend to protect."

"You shouldn't refer to her as a pet. I'm treating her as I would treat anyone else."

"By manipulating them? I heard your conversations. All of them. It's my duty to guard this place. So answer me, where did this notion of pillars come from? The only thing that sustains this place is the Orphan. Why did you invent th—this notion that Ludwig and Laurence and the others represent the true nature of hunt and hunter?"

"Sometimes it's better to give meaning to an action. That's how the nobles and the Church work. Take, for example, the official court taster of blood dejects, responsible for the inspection of blood rejected for impurities. What was the use of such a useless position? Just to make the one hired for it happy that his position was somehow useful, and meant something."

"Yes, but you created a narrative about what we deserve to use killing beasts as steps to free the hunters from weight. But there is still a weight, one that I'm instructed to let continue. Removing it will reveal secrets, true, but it's connected to the Orphan and nothing else."

"Let me guess. If the nightmare ends, the remaining hunters will…that's the point, isn't it? Where will they go? If you kill them here, they wake up. If they die, they are free. But the ones here when this ends…there isn't any ritual for them. They'll be stuck here."

"You're smart for a Church assassin. I was expecting _die, Heretic, the Church sends you to the abyss._

The man with the mace laughed quickly. "Don't pander to me. I'm being stupid, talking to you instead of killing your…companion. She won't end this dream. She will die and return to Yharnam. That's another thing you didn't tell her, right? She could return any time she wanted. Instead, you made sure all the hunters were killed so that when she killed the Orphan, everyone would be free. No problems, no leftovers. Clean for the future."

"So let me make this future." He transformed his sword into a bow and made one last arrow. He could feel himself weakening as it took aim and fired, but it was all for nothing. It had missed. The mace hit his chest without a second wasted, sending him to the ground. A boot on his wound stopped him as he tried to stand. Not that he would be able to, the amount of wounds that he had suffered had taken their toll; he had no more energy to fight.

"No future. It seems you've failed."

"Just a question of perception.''

He felt the blood rushing to his throat. This was how he would die, drowning in his own blood. A fitting end for a hunter. Still, he managed some last words; not rambling, but at least something complete, a clear sign of his death.

"Don't tell her. She needs to feel that she's done something good, something to atone for her actions. It could be her only chance."

Brador looked at Simon and removed his feet from his chest; it wasn't going to change anything now. The rain soaked the two, more blood appearing on the ground

''Don't worry, I will only tell her the truth about the city and her parents.'' A sonorous laugh was followed with a crooked smile.

The rain stopped. They could see light on the horizon. Simon stared in disbelief because of what Brador had told him; that wasn't planned or thought through. It had been so long since he'd seen the sun…but there were still questions. What would happen? What about her? How much of his speech would change her? Was what he'd done valid? An….

Then the questions stopped, and Simon the Harrowed drowned, doubting his actions in death as he had in life.

She woke quickly. Where was she? In a moment she'd managed to kill Kos, helped by an arrow that had flown from nowhere and stunned him, and the next she was here, naked. The only light was that of the blood moon, pouring from grids above her. So this was a cell, an abandoned one judging by the dust around her. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the dark; she was in a hunter's workshop. There was a weapons rack full with weapons identical to ones she'd found in the nightmare, and more dusty tables. A large mirror was near the door, like the one she'd found after defeating Ludwig. So she was back in the normal…Yharnam version of this place. It wasn't far away from a place she could go back to the dream and start to think about herself. Yes, she would do that.

But what was that noise? There was something else there, and she naked and unarmed. The rack of weapons was far away, but she ran for it anyway, hoping she could get there before the source of the sound reached her. She dodged a table and some books on the ground and picked up a pistol, forming bullets from her blood. The sound was still coming from the same place, and she moved towards it slowly, stealthily. Moving without being seen was something she'd learned through trial and error, but having no clothes to make unnecessary noise facilitated the process. But it was all for nothing.

"No—" Whoever was speaking coughed violently. "No need to try that. I'm inoffensive." They coughed again and as she moved she saw a man in a wheelchair in the corner, surrounded by candles and strange symbols. He looked off, with an immense beard and long dark hair that clearly hadn't been taken care of. His clothes were tattered and his body atrophied to the extreme. She could swear she saw more bone than meat and skin as she looked at him.

"I thought you'd be smaller. Expected a bit more of the one that ended the nightmare, and the chosen…strange. Maria was tall, anyway, just like a lamppost…well, those are the consequences of mixing two different bloods and giving it to someone…..half of her and half of him."

"We're not talking about me, so answer. Who are you?" She pointed the weapon at him, but he acted as though he hadn't noticed it.

"The one responsible for continuing this nightmare. The strongest Church assassin that made his clothes from the skin of the slain. Brador." He was assuaged by another surge of coughing. "Or the one that you spoke to in the basement after Ludwig, if you prefer."

"I don't care. Just tell me where I am."

"My home. Lair. Base of operations. And you don't care? Good. I'm relieved. I hoped you'd kill me like you did the whole town."

"I didn't kill the whole town, only…I don't know. Where am I in the city?"

"Yes, you did. To make sure there was no Yharnam tomorrow. Look at the moon. That's you." The moon…it had been normal, then she defeated…no. No. _No._

"Yes, Rom the Vacuous Spider dead, the blood moon ascended. Congratulations, you made the truth shine upon the city. Just look outside at how well you did…"

He hadn't expected for the hunter to start laughing. He knew that laugh. He'd heard it come from fallen hunters. Madness. She had her gun pointed at his face. "How did you make me do this?" The laughter continued.

"Something surged in the city. To access and destroy it, the blood moon was required. Just a fight between two greater individuals, and we lesser—"

A shot hit the man in the chest. He wouldn't die like Simon did, once in life and once in a nightmare, but from lack of oxygen to the brain and loss of blood due to the bullet in his heart. That was how Brador, the greatest assassin of the Church, died. Atrophied by his stay in the nightmare, by a killer of Cleric Beasts and an opponent of the Vicars' sacred followings.

"It wasn't talking to you." She looked at the moon. "How did you make me do this?''

The answer was simple. First she was told needed to find paleblood and….well, she never asked questions. So her motivations had become paleblood, killing beasts and trying to escape the thirst. She didn't think about killing the thing on the lake, or going to the unseen village. It all felt natural, a way of moving forward, paleblood forgotten. Now she had to kill the nightmares… tool, a weapon, a puppet….

The hunter walked towards the mirror, staring at the reflection within. She was responsible for this. Murdering Yharnam. Bringing the blood moon to the city. She was laughing, skin like marble and scars like fissured in stone. She didn't care. She just followed orders. Go there. Do it. And why? None of this was her fault, it was Gehrman's, of course…brown hair reached to her neck, contrasting with her sickly white skin, no different from that of a corpse. No questions, no weak attempt at resistance. She followed every order until she became the perfect hunter when she drank blood, then she stopped caring about the town, only herself. Someone created her as a substitute for him and she would discover why. Besides, they gave her memories. A face. Knowledge. Everything to become the perfect and strongest hunter. Of course, experience was needed; the knowledge was useless without it. Drop the weapon in Yharnam and teach it what it means to be a hunter. An aristocratic, scarred face, a high nose befitting a noble and her eyes, green. She had no past or future. She was made to follow. They wanted a hunter, she'd give them one. She'd find out who created her and kill them,. Nothing mattered anymore. She had lost hope. Simon was wrong; he was always the pillar of hope, he didn't understand anything, anything….She wasn't a monster, she was a hunter. Something that deeply resembled Maria's face looked back at her, but there were some mistakes. The eyebrows were different, the chin and the cheeks more prominent. This wasn't Maria's face, not completely. There were pieces of other individuals, pieces that didn't fit the rest of her body. The brown hair contrasted startlingly with the skin, the eyebrows and chin looked out of place, too big for the face. It wasn't the body of one person but of two fused together, one that she knew and the other a mystery. Nothing of her was hers, but from others, her memories, dreams and appearance all from others…She didn't do this for herself anymore—there wasn't a self—but for her victims, the ones she'd killed. They'd get vengeance, in every way imaginable. She would make sure of that.


	18. Chapter 18

**What people expect of the summary, first lines of chapter in this site? A quick here is the chapter? A response to the reviews? A explanation of the events the story? A talk about the fandom of the narrative? Something about how the chapter was made? So what people expect from this one?**

 **I don't know and who cares? There is a entire new chapter of this story and you're reading a summary? Ignore this and start to read the chapter...it end when I ask to read the narrative, this didn't work.**

Strangely, the city was silent. Yharnam was never silent; inferior beings constantly made noise, and the city was full of inferior beings with no superiors to control them. It looked like a farm, full of sounds akin to grunts, barks, and neighs. During the hunt, the sounds of wolves and dogs could be heard, as the true inferior form appeared to some. He expected that, because of the blood moon, all the beings of the city would show their true forms, creating a cacophony of sounds. But there was nothing. No sounds of any kind as he passed through streets and alleyways. The beasts were there, but they didn't move—as if they were waiting for something.

That much, at least, was expected. This was their real form. Animals. Beasts. The inferior, without the feeble mantle of civilization that his kind, the superior, had given them. Now they waited for a command, for something to guide them, subservient as always. The way they stood still was proof of that. But they had been corrupted by the Church, who put the idea in their primitive brains that they would only take orders from the likes of them. That was why they waited. But the Church was nearly dead, and he would make sure it stayed that way.

He was closing in on the address he was given, but he didn't know what exactly he would find. It was where the remains of the Choir were located, so he could encounter Church hunters or Ludwig Soldiers, and of course giant behemoths could be there as well. Some of them could be transformed, but most would retain the mantle over their real appearances. Their blind faith obscured their nature, made them believe in something they were not. No problem. He would kill any that stood in his way. The time had come for his time to rise, as it was written. Soon the chosen race would take their rightful place.

The place, when he arrived, looked oddly like a warehouse, but one made of stone, with no visible windows and ringed by a wall no taller than him. He could see a hole where the back door would've been, though the door itself was not there. He jumped over the wall, landing in the small alcove between it and the building and making his way across the cheap stone floors to the entrance. Truly, he'd been expecting more. The back and sides of the building were empty; he didn't hear any sounds as he approached the front. Inferiors were stupid, and their leaders not much better, but at least they would know how to defend their center—right?

But there was nobody at the front. They really were that idiotic. Just when he thought they'd reached the bottom, they found another hole. He saw a large door, solid wood reinforced with a metal that was most likely silver to ward against beasts. The door was open. How hadn't this race died yet? He entered and found a set of stairs that would take him lower, directly into the belly of the beast. He descended slowly, both gun and blade ready for any enemies he might encounter, but there were none. No sounds, no light, nothing besides his footsteps on the stone. He had entered a large room full of boxes. Perhaps the inferiors were behind them, waiting for a chance to fire—but if that was the case, they should've closed the door. It would've been impossible to open without a key, and it would have caused him to make enough noise to attract others of their kind.

Maybe they needed him dead, but they could've simply had someone shut the door behind him and someone at the bottom of the stairs with a machine gun, slowly cornering him. He moved around the boxes, and there was no one behind them. No footprints on the ground, no signs of hiding inferiors. The large room had a door at the other end, and when he reached it, it was locked. Finally, something that made sense. At least they could follow some basic logic.

Still, this door wasn't as impressive as the one at the entrance; in fact, it looked far easier to break through, not that he had any means of doing so. Had he been tricked? Nothing here looked like it belonged in the headquarters of the Choir. It seemed just a warehouse, containing whatever was in those boxes. He moved to the stairs, and the door was still open. So what was this? A prank? A jest? An attempt to make him lose the trail? If so, why? And how could he show his purity? He had no clues as to the Choir's location—but perhaps the boxes? He moved over to one of them and pushed the cover back. It was filled with books. He'd found a warehouse. He picked one of them up, a heavy black one with gold foiled letters spelling out the title, an indication that it had probably belonged to one of his race. He read over the name, then passed on to the next book—but it was the same one. They were all the same, even as he rushed to open another box.

This had been a Choir base. It had to be. He'd only read fragments of this book, considering it had been banned the moment of its release, all known copies burned. But now here he was, with boxes full of it. The most scandalous book in Yharnam, and the most truthful of all ever published: _The Greatest Lie Ever Told: the Truth of the World._

It opened his eyes to the truth about everything, right from the opening lines: _Nature has its hierarchies. The queen ant orders her workers, the alpha wolf his pack. All things have leaders, and to say that humans do not is a lie. There is one group, full of the rightful leaders of humanity, and it is not the Church. They are the strongest, the smartest, the most capable—the ones that have guided their inferior counterparts for centuries._ The most important passage, at least to him, stuck in his mind: _If the soldier ant decides not to work, all the formicary dies. If any wolf challenges its alpha, the pack dies for lack of a capable leader. So occurs this with humans and their inferior counterparts._

He flipped farther through the book. There was so much to read, and the whole far outshone any fragments he'd managed to find before. _We pass now into a fight between races: humans and their inferiors. The conflict may look to some like an undesirable one, an abomination. However, it is necessary. The need in humans for inferiors is simply nature, but now they do not need them. Technology had rendered them superfluous. Now they are a weight of the past that must be eliminated; their inefficiency remains a burden to our society. The conflict we see now in Yharnam is this very one: the last step of humanity, the end of history, of conflicts, of races. Victory is inevitable._

Only the Choir, the Church's hidden arm, could have this book. All others had been burned in public fires. Such a treasure in this place, this wa—

Noise. From the outside. He put the book back into place and covered the boxes once again before ducking behind one of them that lay close to the stairs, preparing his weapon. As footsteps descended the stairs, he could make out voices. "So what do we tell them?" The inferiors, now they were coming.

"Beasts. What else would we tell them?"

What would these people think, he wondered, if they realized they would soon be erased from existence? The owners of the voices passed by his hiding place, and he could see them clearly: two soldiers of Ludwig, walking towards the door past the stairs. He moved quickly. "I don't lik—" Their useless bantering was cut off as his sword cut off the head of the inferior. The other started to look back, to see who had attacked, but was stopped by a pistol aimed at his head.

"How many?"

The inferior stared at the barrel in silence, shocked by what had happened for a moment. "You're supposed to be d—"

The Crow aimed the pistol at his leg and shot. He fell to the ground in surprise and pain. "How many of you are behind that door?"

The soldier, holding his wound, did not answer, and the Crow shot his other leg, having had enough of his cries of pain. "How many?"

"There's no one left!" When the soldier didn't continue, he shot his leg again.

"You're telling me your organization doesn't have anyone to defend its headquarters? Sorry, but I'm not as stupid as your race." The man screamed again in pain, as the Crow waited for a moment, then took another shot. "How many?"

"No one!" The Crow aimed the gun again. "Please! There's no one…" The inferior took a breath. "We were the only soldiers left…this moon took everyone by surprise, there is only—"

The rest of the words didn't matter to the Crow, as he shot the soldier in the belly. "The key to the door. Then I'll leave you alone." The soldier put his hand in his robes, carefully watched the whole time, and removed a key, which the Crow took from him before shooting him again, in the arm this time. He calmly moved to the door and put the key in the lock. It fit snugly, and the door clicked open. He returned to the soldier and silenced him with one last shot to the head. He then took the time to search their bodies, looking for other keys or instructions they might have been given. There was nothing but some blood vials and bone marrow mash in leather bags, though the other guard possessed a key identical to the one he held.

As the door opened, he had a feeling the soldier had been lying. There were obviously more soldiers and hunters inside. What did that inferior take him for? One of them? He let the door open, waiting for any calls or shots, but he heard only the sound of the door. He removed his helmet, put the tip of his blade in it, and held it past the door. Nothing. A few moments passed before he retrieved it, adjusting his long hair so it fit neatly on his head again.

The corridor beyond was well-lit, a hallway covered with lamps and a large door at its end in the distance. Other doors occasionally dotted the walls as well. He tread it slowly, keeping a close eye out for any pressure plates. A classic inferior tactic, using traps. But everything appeared normal, and he walked to one of the metal side doors, outfitted with a simple knob. It was heavy and difficult to open, but he managed to pry it away from the frame and entered the room.

It was…strange, there was no other way to put it. It was a room made of wood, with windows on all sides, a trapdoor in the middle and a lever next to it. He moved to one of the windows and saw another room, a large one filled with men, women, children, and the elderly, all in traditional Yharnam garb. There were parts of the room where some were eating, while others were talking and children played close to the adults—in all, sixty or more, and every single one of them doing what one would expect of inferiors: nothing special or important. _Aren't they all supposed to be transformed? Their true selves revealed? Then why do they look the same? Beasts with human skin, but the skin still on…_

Well, it wasn't important to him now. He had to find the head of the Choir, not a bunch of inferiors. Now that he looked, he saw a ladder close to the trapdoor that he hadn't noticed before, given it was a similar color to that of the floor. He could turn the lever and get down the ladder and back up again, but why would he want to do that? There was nothing for him there. When this night was over, humans would ascend again, guided by the Queen. It was not simply his wish, but destiny. He was, at that moment, an instrument of history, his actions fated to advance it, to end the fight between races. The inferiors were useless to humans, and useless things needed to be removed. He'd killed many inferiors throughout his years, always without thought or remorse, but never civilians. Always combatants. It was strange. He felt the needed to move forward, forget what he'd seen, but this could be the last place in all of Yharnam with inferiors in it. Without them, humanity would rise from the ashes of this last hunt. He had his doubts, but he remembered pity was not a human emotion—it was an inferior one, one that caused beings to think irrationally, to care about others. And why should anyone care? The only things that mattered to any human was its race and itself. To feel compassion for another was a disgusting act. To look at another being and not see hope, or worth. To make a final judgement on an individual. No, he would never go back.

Even if the inferiors were supposed to be cleansed from the city, they didn't deserve pity. No one did. Pity was a disgrace, and a trap as well, as the Church was born of inferiors. Laurence had been one of them. Perhaps, among them, one could rise, attack their superiors, slow the course of history.

He opened the trapdoor by means of the lever, put the ladder in the opening and descended. The inferiors' heads turned towards him, but many paid him no mind. Some walked into the room to meet with him. Maybe if he had listened, he would understand why most didn't mind his appearance, but…

The first died quickly. Cutting the head off in one clean swipe is difficult and requires quite a bit of precision, something the Crow possessed in spades. Before the screams had begun he was already moving to another, thrusting his blade, and shooting another nearby, the two bullets in his head making for a clean kill. The screams began. He paid them no mind as he moved to the next. A child? His mother would be a better target, and the father next to her had a chan…no, an inferior spawn? Well, the progenitor would be a good target, alongside its mate, though armed. A shot at the progenitor, cuts to the arm and belly of the mate, then on to the next one.

He shot the ones that showed signs of resistance. First those that appeared armed, using the blade to cut those that tried to get close. One with a cane came running towards him, he shot it in the chest. Next came one with a knife—it got in two slashes before it was on the ground. A shot. Next.

Some were running towards the ladder, and he got them quickly, but most made their way to the back of the room. He was getting to the end slowly, first shooting at any that had stayed near the corpses. He always shot twice, except for some of the younger ones that he stomped with his boots. _Always economize munition._ Things were going much easier; he'd cleared the space around the ladder, now he had only to clean the remaining inferiors. It wasn't even difficult—they were like ducks. He shot the ones in the distance as he walked. Some tried to run at him with knives and other blunt weapons. One even had a gun. He dispatched them quickly, with shots and horizontal swipes of his blade. Now for the last ones, the bigger ones, the ones that tried to beg. Some hid amongst the corpses, but always revealed themselves when he shot again. Then the little ones. At first he tried to kick them, but it was inefficient, many requiring more than one. He didn't want to waste ammunition or his blade on them, so he decided it was better to stomp. With stomping, he could hear the breaking of the bones, the pressure of them snapping and creaking. Usually, he held it until they stopped screaming. The small inferiors had good lungs.

Of course, the pests were cunning, running and hiding with the others' corpses. Why couldn't they simply accept their deaths? It was the natural course. They should at least fight like humans, not hide like dogs.

Next….he looked around. All dead. There was no one alive; history taking its course, he thought while walking back to the entrance. Inferiors must die and humans must live. Such was the future. He walked to the ladder and climbed it. Once at the top, he picked up the ladder again and pushed the lever, breaking it to ensure the door was permanently closed. He knew if any of the animals down there survived the shots (small ones were always more resistant; he had seen in the Orphanage in his youth), now they would be stuck.

He left the room slowly and tried another door. It was open. The same kind of room with the lever, a ladder and—he moved to the windows—more inferiors as well. He moved the lever and the trapdoor opened. It was history, what he was doing, and in the end they were just inferiors, parasites, beasts. And again he put the ladder down, and descended it.

* * *

It took some time, but he finally made it to the end of corridor, after five doors and five groups of inferiors dead. Strange; what use had they been to the Choir? To repopulate Yharnam after this night? If so, why old inferiors, or small ones? They would need mates and progenitors, only young and fertile, to repopulate the city. Well, the question was of no use. They were dead. That was what mattered in the end. And soon all of their race would be gone.

He opened the door of the end of the corridor, waiting for any actions or responses. It was a dark room. He put his hand on his clothes until he found a lamp, lighting it and putting it on his belt. He needed a bit of light, though it would make him easy prey in the dark. He entered the room, looking in any direction in case of an inferior. He didn't like this position, but he had no choice. There was darkness everywhere…where was the light of the corridor? He looked around and saw nothing….he didn't hear the door closing; how? He continued moving through the darkness, the light on his belt serving for nothing. The only thing that he could see was darkness. Had he fallen into a trap?

"You are a long way from home, Orphan," said a female voice, an old-sounding one. He couldn't find the source—it was like it came from everywhere.

"Strange. I thought that no children had ever escaped our orphanage." Another voice, male this time. The crow was looking in all directions, trying to find the individuals they belonged to.

"Of course, no children had ever been reported as escaped; if they had, the administrator would've been punished. He probably lied.'' A female, but the voice sounded mature, different than the first.

"Where are you? Don't hide in the dark! Show yourself and fight, inferiors!"

"I to-to-told y-you that he was-wasn-wasn't ideal fo-for the job," stuttered another male.

"Yes, but we owe him a favor. It was worth it for what we got. And as we can see, only one fugitive has caused problems for us," said the mature female.

"Problems? The weapon of the Moon Presence has created far more trouble than this fugitive could ever make. It caused the blood moon that took us by surprise, attacked many of our remaining agents, and freed the Queen," the male voice interrupted.

"All-all ha-ha-had been conta-t-tained…"

The Crow ran, looking for anything or anyone in the darkness and finding nothing. The place itself felt endless. "Now we just need to contain this fugitive," the male voice said. The sound echoed all around him.

"Let's end him quickly. A gift, for his service of eliminating the soldiers' families." The Crow began to shoot, to see if any walls were close, but the bullets just flew.

"I told all of you that using the soldiers would lead to nothing. We needed hunters."

"Beasts, all of them. The weapons took us by surprise. We had to use what was at our disposal. Now, it's time to sever some ties."

The Crow was in a panic, trying to escape this darkness—but suddenly he wasn't in the dark anymore. He was in…a salon? No chair or tables, only decorated, mirrored walls. It resembled the antique human houses that had stood before the Church destroyed them. He looked at the wooden floor, which seemed different from the rest of the salon. It looked a bit rustic, marked from heavy use. Maybe this place was a hall, for parties or dances? That would make sense; with no tables or chairs, it was the only thing that made sense. There were no doors as well. So where was he, really?

Sound…footsteps, approaching. He got up and looked around until he figured out the direction of the sound. An enemy was nearing him. The left foot ahead, right hand in the air, relaxed, feet at a ninety-degree angle: everything thing about the posture seemed in perfect symmetry. The rapier in its right hand was pointed at an angle, still in his direction, and it wore the traditional inferior Yharnam garb. What _was_ that?

Before he could think on it more, it moved. In a moment he had already fallen, the tip of the sword piercing his skin. He jumped backwards, but still the strange inferior moved—faster now, getting closer to him. Its face was obscured by a piece of fabric, and its blank eyes told him nothing. If it wanted to stay close, then fine. He could take it.

The tip of its blade entered his skin again, immediately followed by a slash. And then it was gone—but he felt another hit at his back. He turned while attacking and again saw nothing, but another attack behind him This time, he prepared his gun while slashing, and shot the pistol in the other direction, covering two sides. Still, he felt another swipe on his back, the blade not cutting deep, but still enough to hurt. He tried to move around to attack his enemy but it had already disappeared. When it struck his back again, he turned quickly this time, and he could see it, far from him. It held the same stance, only his rapier was dripping with his blood.

"Don't wo-wo-worry, it will be sl-slow…"

And indeed it was. The only attacks that struck the Crow were small pokes from the tip of the blade, sapping his strength slowly. He tried to attack, dodge, anything, but never managed to catch his attacker. The damage was easy enough to fix with a blood vial, but it didn't stop, either. At some point, he was going to run out of them, and then he would simply bleed out and die from the plethora of small wounds he was receiving. There was a pattern, but even though it was exceedingly simple there was nothing he could to do to break it. Shooting it when it attacked did nothing, as it noticed the weapon. Doing nothing and expecting a frontal attack was useless as well. But there was something he could try…

After one more hit on the back, he immediately put the bone marrow ash on his pistol, preparing for the next shot. He aimed the pistol at his gut, lined up with where he'd been receiving the cuts. He waited a few moments after the next hit, and then he shot.

The first thing he felt was incredible pain, the twin shots destroying his gut, but he still turned quickly, blade ready. There it was, stumbling, surprised by the damage it had received. It stumbled even more when the Chickage was thrust through its chest, followed by a shot from the pistol to its face—then another, and another, until he ran out of bullets and all that was left of his enemy's face was a lump of flesh. He pulled his blade out of the corpse as it fell to the ground and injected several blood vials. The healing was intensely painful, but it had been worth it to fight this coward, this common inferior. Their arrogance would always be their downfall. Now he had to discover where he wa—

But again he was in the black nothingness, as the voices began to emerge as before. First the male: "I told him that his obsession with duels would kill him. One night, I told him."

"You did," said the older female, almost cheerfully, "but did you really think he would listen? Of course not. Still, he won't be much of a loss."

"He won't. Everything is already in place, outside of our grasp. I know, but I still don't enjoy seeing death so close to me."

"You haven't changed at all. Always afraid of needles and blood, ever since you were small. I can almost see you entering my clinic, nearly crying out of fear…"

"I have changed. If not, I wouldn't be here. Alas, you will take care of our fugitive. He has already gone too far."

"Don't worry, it won't produce an ounce of blood."

The Crow could hear something ahead of them. "Wait, he is already cr—"

The first thing he saw was an old woman, wearing a vest of a priestess of the Church—an old inferior. He readied his weapons for the kill, but her only movement was to extend her arm, tossing to him the apple that had been in her hand. For some reason, he caught it. Even though her face was covered by a hood and a shock of white hair, he thought he saw her smirk. As he caught the apple he looked at it and saw…

Small things fighting against a planet, attacking desperately it's heart trying to make it bleed, poison it, cutting anything to stop it. Until the heart moved destroying one of the small things, consuming it, feeding the planet but it wasn't a planet, it was an egg, it was hatching it and soon all would be lost

 _Figures in purple vests fighting something, something he couldn't comprehend, something that just looked like worms, with more worms coming out of them, all at the same time…_

 _A blue and green sphere, encircled by something he could only call a tentacle, burning the sphere as it touched it…_

 _An army on the horizon, throwing themselves against the thing, whose form hurt his eyes just by looking at it. It devoured everything it touched—the army, the ground, even the water; all was consumed. As it looked like the army was winning, pushing back the giant thing, managing to trap it, another hulking mass appeared, destroying all in its arrival, the entire army gone in an instant, ending the useless fight…_

 _A mass of tentacles and mouths, being worshipped by monkeys. Some jumped, threw themselves at the thing's mouths. The tentacles molded the monkeys, one by one, and he saw that, in the end, they looked just like humans…_

 _He saw. He saw everything._

"Why even fight? He was just shown exactly what he's up against. Not the Old Ones. Just us—an ex-duelist, an old woman and a diplomat. Or did you think that we had reached their level?"

"Old woman? That's all? I'm sure I've some more titles…"

"What, like director of an orphanage? There's no paperwork for that. You had me delete it. As well as Chief Researcher, Treasurer of the Church, of the Choir, of the Sacred Heart, and…Councilor of this Choir. Not a trace. So what's left?"

"Don't pretend you just deleted everything. I know you've hidden some documents, just in case I do something you don't agree with…"

"Our dead friend had some hunters and Ludwig soldiers in his pocket, in case anything happened, and you had some brainsuckers in case I stepped out of line. All of you have something. So why can't I have information?"

"The pen is mightier than the sword, as they say…"

"I don't think the pen is stronger if the sword is pointed at my heart. All the time."

"You needn't worry. You've never stepped out of line, even at the most difficult times. Just like when you were a child. Afraid of the needles, but always stock-still, like a pig going to the slaughterhouse…"

"Cute. But I believe you've made a mistake with our guest."

"Why? He's basically dead. Euthanasia would be best now. The mind is gone, only the body remains. Unless you had some use for him?"

"No, just…it was a pleasure meeting you. I will see you soon."

"What? Yo—"

He felt control of the space being passed to him. He had to prepare, after all. It wasn't every day that one met such a guest. He began to mold the place—some bookshelves, nice furniture, a huge table covered with decorations and open books and papers, comfortable chairs for himself and his guests. A window for more light. Books and other oddities for the shelves. A more…professional look, that was what he wanted. When all was said and done, he moved to a chair behind the table and sat. Now the waiting was all that was left. He picked up a sheet of paper, conjured a pen and began to write.

Someone kicked the door. He'd forgotten to make one; thankfully, one of the guests had decided to. He entered just as expected—covered in blood, brandishing his sword and aiming his pistol at him. Then he just stood, pointing the gun at the thing sitting behind the table. The Crow hadn't expected this. Did he shoot the inferior? Of course he'd shot the inferior, an—

"Please, sit. We have much to discuss."

"I don't obey your orders, inferior. Answer me or d—"

"I will answer all. Just sit. Or shoot me. You must choose." The thing behind the desk continued to write as the Crow moved to the chair it had indicated. There was nothing suspicious about it, so he sat, though he kept his weapon pointed at the thing. The man finished the letter, folded it, sealed it, and it vanished as he began another.

"What are you?"

"Well, I am the one responsible for—"

"No, inferior, what _are_ you? I see only a blue figure, one without form, writing something." It was true; the form was all the Crow could see: a blue mass with something that looked like arms to write on the paper. It didn't look like the large-headed creatures he'd killed earlier.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was so concerned with creating an adequate space for our conversation that I forgot to take care of myself. It's alright. Ask your questions and I will answer."

The Crow pointed his weapon in silence. Where did he shoot—at the center of the mass, or higher, where the head was supposed to be? "Where am I?"

"A place where you will soon be gone, just a construction of a dream that manages to catch those who get close. A portable nightmare, if you wish. Right now, it is simply an old office; my first embassy. Through the window, you can see the city…ah. I forgot to construct the exterior. My apologies."

"So you're an inferior?"

"Amazing how a term like that makes killing so much easier. Just strips the humanity right from things."

"You realize you just answered my question? A being would only care about others of its race."

"Whatever lets you sleep at night. I do that myself, because of the actions I committed in the name of the Church."

The two sat in silence as the 'arms' of the blue thing continued to write. "So you're…what? A member of the Choir? How many of your disgusting kind are left for me to cleanse for this wretch?"

"I am the last one. The Spymaster, if you will, though it's an empty title. I clean up the messes the other members make, and ensure no one discovers them."

"So if I kill you, I end the Church?"

"Technically, yes, the entire structure of the Church would be destroyed. The blood moon caught us all off guard. Most of the Choir is dead, and don't even ask me about the Church. No higher-ups are alive. What you just faced were the remains of a much larger council."

"Shouldn't you be fighting, or begging for your life? Your kind has mastered the art of throwing themselves at the feet of their conquerors."

"My two companions have already proved the uselessness of that. As to your specific condition, as well as where we are," it said as it folded and sealed the next paper, starting to write on a new one as it vanished, "this place changes in accordance with the will of individuals, usually the Old Ones. This specific place is devoid of them, so anyone with a large enough will can control it—hence, you being invincible."

"No, it isn't because you're 'human,' but because you're crazy."

"Don't call me names, inferior. Clearly, you're out of your mind, like so many of your species. I'm just following my rightful destiny."

"You are. That is why, when my companion showed you what she did, you remained functional. The only way to do that was to deny reality. You've probably managed to convince yourself that everything you say is a trick of the 'inferiors.' Of course, the other way to survive would be to realize you aren't the center of the universe and other things exist outside your reality. That would be a problem as your world view would have to be expanded not possible to you being a Noble Supremacist...a racist a better term.

"The other reason that show your craziness is the butchering innocents without hesitation or care. That requires an incredible amount of desensitization to others, all accomplished by reading a book that confirms your childhood views: that you are superior to all,. Amazing how much that massages the ego, to make people hate anyone different and maintain the status quo as it privileges them. Alas, the last part isn't about you. Just the part where an orphan decided to hate the world and go to extremes to solidify that hate. What motivated you? The way the other children treated you? Or the noble that adopted you later, hoping to use your name for money?"

"This is just another bunch of lies. I expected as much from your kind. Now, tim—"

"The Altar of Despair is what you should be looking for."

"What?"

"Don't worry. I can't kill you, but your own stupidity and narrow-mindedness will. I've just delayed you enough to sign your death." With that, the Crow jumped back and shot. The mass folded the letter and sealed it. He shot again and again until it fell, and…

He was back in a circular room. In front of him were three individuals he knew all too well. One was dressed in common Yharnam garb—the one that had fought with the rapier. Then there was the old nun that had tried to show him lies, as well as the blue mass, now dressed as a noble. They all had needled attached to them, and another mass writhed at the center of the table. They were trying to better themselves by injecting the blood of other creatures. He refused to look at the thing in the middle. It wasn't real. Whatever the nun had shown him had been a lie, and that thing was just one more. There were only inferiors and superiors. Everything else was just delusions.

Nothing he saw had been true. Nothing. Still, the images in his head taunted him, tested him. The truth of the world had never involved creatures made of tentacles. Lies. He started to move, avoiding the things on the table, cabal proof, an affront to his reality. He saw something at his feet—a letter. If he had been in a saner state, he would have questioned its convenience, considering his enemy was just writing one. Alas, the thought that any inferior could trick him was alien to him. So he opened the letter and read it quickly, then moved to where it commanded. He was desperate for instructions, surviving to him was easy, as killing the problem was thinking, doubts weren't the mark of a human being.

He only cared to have another set of instructions to follow, prestigious ones. _Go to the Cathedral. Behind the Altar is this so-called Altar of Despair. To open it, you will need the blood of the Hunter of Hunters. Gaining access to this will grant you the capacity to resurrect Annalise, who was slayed by the Church._ Of course he would do this. What else could he do? Think, reflect? This was something more, something far bigger than him alone. And in another part of town, another crow, one of Yharnam, received a letter: _Go to the Cathedral and kill the fallen one that masquerades as a hunter._

 **Review, Favorite, Pm**

 **Next Chapter soon**


	19. Chapter 19

**A chapter in less then a month? How ? Let's say it involved someone called Mephistopheles and a pen... so don't expect this to happen again, see as more of a treat? Maybe a Christmas gift... Two months late...**

 **More important this story has gone to M rating, so you all now what this means... time to get edgy, so let me rewrite the hunter past to make that she was abused, raped, beaten and tortured. Because as we all know the darker a story is, the better it is and of course I have conditions to write about such heavy topics, I read the Wikipedia articles.**

 **Just joking, it has gone to M as due to the recent events in the story that have happened it can't stay at a lower rating anymore, just a small thing don't worry, nothing will change beside the rating.**

The sounds in the workshop weren't normal. Gehrman wasn't there; he'd gone to the garden, awaiting the end of the hunt. The good hunter was absent as well—hunting either the last beast to end the dream, or the beasts she would find in the stone that she'd given to the hunter.

Was it right of her to give the hunter the stone? It was her duty to provide for the hunters, help them in their hunts. Still, it was Gehrman's stone, though she didn't feel any shame about not returning it to him. It was a strange sensation, making her face feel hot and uncomfortable. According to the books, it happened when making a mistake, or fearing dishonor. That made her look up fear and dishonor, names she was sure the hunters had talked about, though at the time she hadn't asked questions.

She feared having given the stone to the good hunter. She didn't know why, but it felt wrong. Perhaps she worried for her—but that sensation made no sense. Why fear? If she died, she would return to the dream. She couldn't die, only get hurt. Why didn't she like the idea of the good hunter getting hurt? It was inevitable. All hunters came back from hunts injured, some even with loss of limb or other organs. Still, she worried. Strange. She would have to read more about this. To feel it for others—what did it mean?

At the moment, though, the Doll had bigger concerns—finding out who was making those sounds. She entered the lateral door of the workshop, their volume increasing. She was surprised by its origin; the good hunter stood there, naked, opening drawers and cabinets and throwing their contents on the ground.

"Good hunter, why are you naked?"

The hunter paused, looking at the Doll directly. If she had a gun, she probably would have shot her. "Hello, Doll. I lost my clothes in the hunt. Now I'm looking for new ones." She returned to pawing through the drawers. _Where was it?_

"Do you want help, good hunter?"

The hunter shifted her focus back to the doll. "Yes."

She walked to one of the drawers and opened it as the hunter watched, picking through its contents. "What type to you desire, good hunter? There is silk, cotton…"

"That one." The nameless pointed to a piece of underwear the Doll was removing from a drawer.

"This fabric is very raw, good hunter; it will cause rashes and discomfort on the skin where it is placed—"

"Give it to me." The Doll obeyed and the hunter put them on, making them look like pants. Their brown color only made the cheapness and poor quality of them that much more obvious. The Doll began to put away the things she'd taken out and opened another drawer.

"For your bust, what kind do you desire?" The hunter pointed to a piece of cloth that matched the underwear she'd chosen. The Doll handed it to her and straightened up the contents of the drawers. Everything must be organized in the workshop. It was her duty. The hunter appeared to be having some difficulty with the cloth as she looked at the Doll. No words were needed—it was not the first time she had done such a thing. Strong enough to not cause distractions, loose enough to avoid pain or major discomfort. Unfortunately, the fabric chosen by the good hunter would make that inevitable, and as she finished the last preparations, the Doll heard a grunt of pain.

"Do you have any problems with the clothes chosen, good hunter?"

"Just some discomfort. It's tied too strongly." The Doll resolved the hunter's complaints, but movement stopped her. "There's no problems with it. Not enough, anyway. Let's move on to the clothes."

"Of course, good hunter. What type of resistance do you wish to prioritize?"

The hunter paused for a moment as the Doll waited, unmoving. "Arcane."

The Doll returned to the drawers. She didn't need to look; she knew the place of every item in the workshop, as part of her duty to the hunters. She removed the attire piece by piece and gave it to the nameless. She'd seen them somewhere—mostly white, with some black, a blindfold cap…the hunter knew this attire. It was her first kill for the Queen. She could already feel the crippling thirst again. It had been gone for the duration of the nightmare, but now it had returned. But she could just erase the rune—could it be that simple? She had to try. Having the Vileblood Rune on her made her feel sick, made her remember her actions. She looked at her left arm. Nothing. Just scars and skin. She moved the arm, flexed her fingers, they were so long now. It was surreal—her hand didn't look like that. It was shorter, not as scarred as these. They were in the same position, but they looked like rifts in porcelain, not skin.

This body felt alien. How long had she been changed? Since the blood moon? Since the nightmare? How hadn't she noticed that everything was different, that the way she walked felt strange? Her legs were longer, she took longer strides, her arms made wider swings now, she was taller too. But before the truth had appeared, things were fine; her body gave her no troubles. What kind of illusion was used to hide the reality of her body to even herself?

She felt hair on her upper back, touching her skin, wet. This part hadn't been hidden properly, perhaps that could be why she felt it. She passed her hands along it. It was always wet when she felt it—did the water break the illusion? Still, she needed to do something about it. Long hair was a death sentence for a hunter. It could get stuck on something, grabbed by someone. It put her at a disadvantage.

"Doll, cut my hair." The hunter put the clothes on as the Doll plucked a pair of scissors from the third drawer to the left, but the hunter stopped her. "Use a dagger."

She moved to where the weapons were stored. There were new ones there—a large sword, another type of saw cleaver…a bone? Something in a jar, but nothing that looked like a dagger. She spotted something next to a katana and picked it up. The nameless watched her grab the dagger half of the Rakuyo and stare at it. Maria and the Doll were similar to a fault. Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe Maria was used as the model for the Doll. There had to be some connection. She stared at the dagger for a long time as the hunter thought. There was a lifeless doll in the waking world. She'd check it for clues. To hunt a beast, one needed to know its habitat, its hunting grounds, to make the hunt more efficient. Gehrman's words—the ones she would use to take him down.

"Familiar?" The hunter's voice snapped the Doll out of her stupor.

"I'm sorry, good hunter. I was distracted for a moment." The hunter sat down, adjusting her clothing. She'd put most of it on while the Doll wasn't looking. She stepped up behind the hunter with the dagger and started to cut her hair, which gave way with no resistance. They both remained silent, one of them lost in thought, the other performing their duty.

There was something about the dagger, the way she wielded it, though she didn't know what it was. It wasn't familiar. She'd never seen it before, but there was…a sensation. A feeling. She didn't know which one, or how to define it. She'd felt something similar before the hunter arrived, a strange freedom. Before, she had been bound by chains, and the next moment she wasn't. It was so abrupt. One minute tending the garden, feeling freer the next. It was happening now, and it had happened to Gehrman moments before the hunter had arrived. He was more tranquil, calmer, as though his duty had been relieved.

Should she investigate the sudden changes? She recognized curiosity, but how to sate it, and why? It had no relation to her duty to help the hunters. The stone would help the hunter face more beasts but this, this was for herself, not the hunt. Whatever was happening to her wasn't important. She didn't have a problem as long as they didn't disturb her main task, as long as they remained minor distractions. But now they gave her odd compulsions, urged her to do things that wouldn't help the hunt—would maybe even muddle it.

The stone helped. More beasts needed to be hunted, and she had a way to make sure they would be. Still, she'd stolen it from Gehrman. What if another hunter needed the stone later? Or Gehrman needed it? There were some beasts to be found later in the hunt. She remembered hearing the hunters talk about it before, and reading about it. The corpses of some beasts, or the sounds of battle, could attract others. Best to take the small ones down first, then focus on the large. The stone could be just that—an area filled with large beasts. Was that why Gehrman hadn't given it to the hunter himself—he waited for the small beasts to be hunted? Had she complicated things, disturbed the hunter's task? She couldn't let this continue. Her duty to the hunt was more important than any distractions. As the Doll made her resolutions and continued to cut, now two focused on duty.

Choosing Byrgenwerth before the place where she found the doll was a logical choice. As the most important science lab in Yharnam it was sure to have clues about the dream and herself. Just looking at the place reinforced this theory—thousands of books, papers, a wealth of research. Surely something here would provide her with some answers. There was just one problem: there was a ridiculous amount of material. Just finding information about her situation would be hard, and there wasn't a book that had all the answers waiting for her.

She closed the useless book she was reading and proceeded to throw it out the window with the other books, making a large pile. There was one under every window now. She picked up a sheaf of documents and skimmed them, looking for certain words, but it was just about astronomy. She balled them up in her hands and threw them out the window too.

This was getting tiresome. She had cleaned tons of bookcases and boxes filled with documents and still she had so much to go through. She wanted to accomplish her goal quickly, not be stuck, useless, reading when she could be hunting. Still, she would continue. The more information she knew about the dream, herself (her creation or the reason for her existence) or Gehrman, the easier this fight would be.

That was why it had taken hours for her to finally piece together something that looked like answers: a table filled with books and documents. All of the bookcases in the building were empty, along with any locker or chest. She had checked everything, all that was of worth in this blood forsaken place, and she got some answers—well, clues was a more fitting word. The first event that she discovered was an expedition to a place called the Fishing Hamlet, to study the area and the fallen object. Later, a place called the Astral Clock Tower was used for experiments on test subjects close to the area of the fall. All of that involved the hunters of Yharnam, scholars of Byrgenwerth and the Healing Church. The individuals that were in that area vanished without explanation.

Those were the places in the hunter's nightmare, as she had seen them in, and Simon had explained, for the most part; searching looked useless. It wasn't what was important. What happened after they vanished was. The hunters of Yharnam fell into decline. The first workshop, led by a man named Gehrman, closed, and he disappeared without a trace. That was all she found.

The problem was there were very few names on what she found. It mentioned Gehrman as leader of the hunter's workshop, and that was all. It appeared that this place only cared about science, so any mentions of names, places or people involved was rare. Maybe they wanted secrecy all the time. They referred to the fishing hamlet's population as test subjects, never by any other alias. If one had read this without knowing the history, they would've thought about animals or plants, not humans. Perhaps they'd hoped the lack of names would hide the true nature of what they were doing. Worse, she had no idea what half of this book talked about. Apparently, science wasn't something that, when they had made her, was very important, so large chunks of it were impossible for her to understand, and she just skipped them.

So how would she discover more? She needed to know what happened to Gehrman, how he'd gone from the waking world to the dream. That was the key: discovering why he had created her and how the dream came to be. Why had he wanted to die? Figuring that out was important. Gehrman was just one human; he couldn't create or make what she was. Just the task of putting up illusions or fake memories would require help, and a lot of it.

This was clearly in the blood used on her to give her false memories. It had to have been a large quantity, more than five liters of blood or bone marrow of the one intended. She looked like Maria, so they had used her fluids as part of the memories, but Maria had been dead for a long time. She was in the dream too. But taking blood from her in the nightmare was impossible; if it was hard to kill her, imagine trying to extract any fluids from her body.

Of course, she also had to figure out how she'd received the memories. She had two sets of them, somehow. The ones in Cainhurst Castle were Maria's, and the others, of hunting in the woods with fathe—with a man were just that. That and the memories of weapons and equipment, just enough so that she knew how to utilize them. It would've taken a large amount of blood to give her the muscle memory, if the books she'd read about the transfusions were correct.

So she was looking for a person, or a group of people, that had access to huge amounts of blood, the blood of thousands of individuals, including hunters, personnel capable of administering the transfusions, and a way to create a dream. There was only one group capable of that: the Church. At least she knew where to go next. She had to check every Church building for information.

Well, she had expected more from the famous Byrgenwerth, but still, she got some clues, and…everything that Brador had said was true. She'd found some books on the blood moon, this so called Vacuous spider, an experiment that had gone wrong, turning a researcher named Rom into an ascended being that somehow stopped the destruction of the city. By the gods, she'd killed the entire town. If she hadn't faced the vacuous spider, the blood moon wouldn't' have happened, and all of these people would be alive. If she had just considered her actions, just for a moment, if she had asked questions, but no. She would kill Gehrman and all who helped him. They all would die. This would be Yharnam's last hunt. That she promised.

* * *

She learned two things by checking the Church buildings. One, they were all built so it was extremely easy to defend against any beast. Tight corridors creating choke points, reinforced windows and doors, a plentiful amount of defense and weapons. She had seen a lot of machine guns around. Of course all of Yharnam's buildings were constructed to handle the beasts, but the Church took it to a whole new level. A machine gun was a rare weapon, and extremely expensive, but almost every important building had one, in an atrium or on the ceiling overlooking the main entrance. It was easy to see which buildings were the Church's; either they had a machine gun on top or she knew the location from the documents she found in each building, jumping from one to the next.

The other thing she learned was how boring the Church could be. She'd hoped for documents detailing their experiments, about the Old Ones, Nightmares, or about hunters. Documents with some answers. But all she found were receipts for candles, blood, clothes for the Parish or noes on theological discussions. What had she expected, a book called _Answers for the Nameless_? So she did the same thing as before—any useless thing was thrown out the window. She spent far more time throwing the garbage out than looking for answers in the worthwhile documents.

Still she found some small hints. All of the Chapels and Blood Clinics sent the money that they received through donations or blood transfusions to the Cathedral. Until here, there were no problems. Send money to the center so it could distribute it or accumulate it; it was the only way to deal with the money, according to some documents that she read. It was the law: all money that was left after expenditures had to go to the Cathedral. No Chapel could send it to another, or a Blood Clinic. First, to the center. So why was part of it, in every book of numbers she read, going to the Choir of the Church of the Sacred Heart?

There was one problem with finding an answer to that: it didn't exist. There were no documents or papers about it, all of the Churches were listed in a book and this Sacred Heart wasn't on any list. The only thing that proved its existence was that money was sent there, and one Church had sent some supplies to places in its name—and, of course, some vague indications that this temple had some connection to it, according to some journals that she found, and with the Yharnam Orphanage. But that was all. Amazing work had been done by the Church of the Sacred Heart in the Upper Cathedral Ward, taking care of the youth of Yharnam, an empty, desolate area used for a great task. She crumbled the newspaper and threw it out the window. That was her best clue: money being sent to an unknown place, but she would take it in a heartbeat. She had to go now to the Upper Cathedral Ward to check this orphanage…

Locked. It was locked. She wanted to…to…to nothing. A hunter didn't put their emotions or feelings into the hunt. She had already changed the Cainhurst rune, and she could smell it again, so sweet…alongside the chance of falling to beasthood. This time, she would take the teachings to heart. Gehrman might be manipulating her, but all of his advice proved true, so she calmed herself. Only the hunt. Nothing else.

After calming herself, she began to return, descending down the towers, this time checking to see if any of the beasts' bodies had a key on them. Nothing, but at least she'd supplied herself on the bodies. Next she checked the places that had received supplies. Thankfully, she'd taken the paper with the names, a page ripped out of the book. She was already delineating a route. There were four close to her. One, then after that take a lamp, as the others were farther away and it would speed the walk to the others. That was close to one of them, next…

Her feet hit something. A corpse. Old, female, pieces of clothing still clinging to the body. She knew those clothes and this p—corpse. She was at the chapel again. She hadn't noticed that she'd come here…of course, focus on the hunt. The blood had coagulated in the Chapel, giving the ground a strange look, almost like a painting. Now she could see the remains of the old woman, the suspicious man and the creepy man's mangled corpse…nothing, just the hunt…just the hunt….

The places where close—one was just at back of the Chapel. She descended the stairs, reaching the small room filled with bookcases and tables down below, and then went down the ladder. Later, she could check the bookcases here, if the names proved a dead end…

She was wrong. There was still one person alive in Yharnam, one civilian. She sat in a chair crying, and in front of her was a small horrid thing. It looked like a worm, but with bulbs on the hand, and some sort of atrophied body covered in blood.

Arianna was crying in front of the small beast, her dress red on the lower parts dripping on the ground. Had she been hurt when the suspicious man transformed, entered, and butchered everyone in the Chapel? Maybe she had run away after being hit….

The sound of the hunter descending the ladder was enough for Arianna raise her head to see who or what had produced the noise.

One didn't work long as a whore in Yharnam without learning some things, such as where to buy the best blood to cure any disease from a client, where to buy condoms, and that clients will sometimes talk. Most just did their deeds and left, easy and simple. Others liked to talk after the sex, trivial things like the reason they'd sought a woman for the night, or their lives. This never mattered to Arianna. They were paying for the hour. If they wanted to use it to talk, who was she to argue? The problem was a certain type of talker, the ones that didn't talk about trivial things, the ones that belonged to the Church. It was clear to her that she wasn't supposed to hear or know what they were saying. Talk of the evolution of humanity, plans on how to do it….

It had crossed her mind more than once to blackmail the clients that had obviously talked too much. Easy money. What had stopped her were the stories of others. There was a silent rule: don't reveal anything about Church clients or why they'd come. The same clients that paid huge sums to the courtesans that had fallen pregnant by them, to keep their pregnancy a secret and later take the children away...what happened to them after? It didn't matter, the prices were very high, and life was hard.

Now she was seeing one of them in front of her, armed, looking at the thing that she had given birth to. She wanted to vomit, cry, squish the life from the monster that she had created, everything and nothing at the same time. Combined with the attack that she had barely escaped, and the horrible things that she started to see after the moon had changed color, it was a miracle that she was only crying. What had stopped her from breaking completely was the being in front of her, making her put what had happened to the back of her mind.

That soon didn't matter, as all of her problems were gone alongside her life, a shot destroying Arianna's head. Few thoughts crossed her mind as the bullets passed through.

That was how Arianna died, without explanation or reason, just a bullet, the end for the last person in Yharnam, not a tear or sob over her death, nor would there be. Maybe things would've been different if she'd told others that her real name was Lúcia, that she had bedded a devious man to pay for medicine for her family, suffering for a deadly disease. That after being kicked out of here home she'd gone to Yharnam, where she become a courtesan and lived a good life thanks to her luxurious lovers, always eager to provide. That the latter would fall in love with a kind and pure-hearted man that would restore her soul and soon after die, taking with him a piece of her spirit. Of course, that might make others shed a tear or two, but unfortunately none of it was true. The truth died alongside her, so the only thing that remained of her was what people believed she was…not so different of her life.

Humans don't give birth to beasts, beasts give birth to beasts, and all beasts must be hunted, no mercy or hesitation. Such is the duty of a hunter, such is her duty. She shot the small thing that had been birthed from the beast and proceed to squish it with her feet. Now, where were those places?

* * *

She'd visited six places, and eleven were left. She was approaching the seventh, not having found anything in any of the places she had gone so far. Always empty, just bare warehouses or houses. There were some traces of life—scorch marks on walls, or blood marks—but whatever had happened didn't give her any clues about what she was looking for. So she continued, place to place.

As she approached, the place looked like just another warehouse, so she expected a rectangular building with no windows and just one door. All fine. She moved towards the entrance, looking at the building. No windows and a rectangular structure, as she could see, a small wall separated her from its side. She jumped over it and moved to the entrance, but as she reached it, things changed. The door wasn't an ordinary wooden door but a reinforced iron one, with silver lining parts of it. It was made to guard against cleric beasts, who could pound an entire night on it and it still wouldn't open. Doors of this kind were rare in Yharnam. She'd only seen them in the Cathedral and the Nightmare, though they'd ironically served to keep the beasts in rather than out.

The whole thing felt promising. She moved to the door, which was already open just a small gap, and squeezed through. The situation was getting even better: stairs led down, and she descended them, her weapons ready. The quick descent led to a room filled with boxes, an open door that she could see something behind, and two corpses. First, she checked the room for any beasts, but found nothing behind the objects, and the door lead to a corridor. Now she looked at the corpse.

First, it was a clean kill. The head was cut with precision; all of Yharnam's blades could deliver a clean cut of the head, though it depended of ability of the user. This one was good. The cut was very clean, and not wide, so a sword with a fine blade, or katanas, could've made it. A soldier of Ludwig, by the vestment. She checked the body, but it had been already been looted, so she moved to the other corpse.

Multiples shots on the body, some focused in the same area, the right leg. The only lethal shot was to the head. So an individual that delivered such a clean head cut had difficulty shooting someone? _Pain gives information,_ her tutor had told her told her during lessons. Her mother wanted her education to be that of a princess, sh—

Not her mother. Not her tutor. Those were lies.

She stood, disoriented by the sudden flashback. So Maria had learned to torture…such noble knights, they were. This person had been tortured and shot after. Whether or not the answer was given didn't matter. What mattered was the man wasn't very good at holding information and the torturer wasn't very good at torturing. Using a gun was wrong, too much damage right at the beginning. You had to start slow…..

Maria apparently had extensive knowledge about torture. She felt horrified, something that would motivate her in the future to get out of the castle. It was strange that she had all of the knowledge to remove information from someone with vivid memories of practice and study, yet she had never done it. The same with the tracking and analysis of corpses. She'd never done it but her head told her that yes, she had.

It was strange, having these memories and these thoughts that weren't her own. She had no problems with torture if it helped the hunt, but if she'd known the truth about herself, would she have? Just like Maria had? Perhaps. But the pressure of the hunt would make her do it anyway. She always did what she didn't want to, always for the hunt. Was that, too, a memory implanted in her? Succumb when the hunt demanded? Or a trace of her real persona…

She laughed. That was funny, the thought that she had one. She passed through the door ready to fight, but the corridor was empty, only some doors on the sides and one on the end that was partially open. _Check the side doors, then the end one._

The first thing that she noticed, when she opened the nearest door was the smell, the strong stench of blood, followed by death and decay. It was a small room, the wooden floor a stark contrast to the stone that had covered the place until now. There were windows on three walls, a ladder nearest the left window, a lever, and a trapdoor in the center of the room. So, really, nothing in it—so where was that smell coming from?

She moved to the windows and it was immediately explained. Below was a large room with bare grey walls, covered with corpses. They'd been killed that night. It was the only explanation for the smell of rot not being as strong as the one of blood. She wouldn't go down, but from her vantage point she could see small holes from pistols, and a lot of dismembered bodies. She couldn't say whether or not the cuts were clean, as the one she'd seen before, but it had to be the same person that had killed all of these people. So not a beast, since it used weapons, and not a blood-crazed hunter—the cuts were too clean. It was someone sane. That presented a problem.

Hunters wouldn't simply kill these people unless there was a reason, but what could that be? If a hunter wanted blood, they'd kill a beast. Much more blood, _and much more delicious_. A hunter could kill the guards if he had problems with the Church, but spending time killing civilians? They weren't worth the time to save or kill. So a sane individual that had problems with the Church and no problems killing civilians, with extensive training…

She exited the room and moved to the next door. The same thing as before: windows, lever, ladder and…another large room filled with civilians. Dead, just like the ones before. This would be a problem...

* * *

All of the rooms on the sides had the same contents, so she moved to the last door, the one that was already cracked open. What could be there? The one responsible for the killings? Answers? She entered, only to see the same thing as before. Dead people. This time there were four of them, on a circular table. As she approached, she saw that all of them had needles in both arms, connecting them to each other, and to an amorphous mass that rested in the middle of the table and was also filled with needles. She remembered it as something she'd seen in the Nightmare. They were all immortal, but this had to be an exception. It was dead. It wasn't moving.

The people themselves were an odd group: a nobleman, a man in traditional Yharnam garb, an older woman that looked like a nun, and a younger woman that wore the clothes of a…she didn't actually know. No matter how hard she searched her memory, she found nothing about the type of cloth the woman was wearing.

She looked around the room. Bookcases lined the walls, full of books and papers, and on the two ends of the rooms, cabinets pressed against the walls. It was a strange place, but at least it has the potential to provide some information.

She knew everything. All her questions, answered. She hadn't expected what she found, but, she thought, it was fitting for a being like her.

Her existence was a mistake—a hypocrisy, to be more accurate. A hunter only focusing on the hunt, that couldn't or shouldn't help civilians, because it isn't his duty, killing beasts is, and the deaths along the way didn't matter. Such fitting words to describe a hunter. A shame that the speaker didn't follow those rules. If he had, things would've been better. She probably wouldn't have even existed. Did he think of them while he searched, fruitless, for a way to bring her back? Did he think of them when he decided to go ahead with the ritual? Or when he was trapped in a nightmare with a stranger bearing his lover's face and an eternal task? Did he think of his own advice? No. The only thing he remembered was that he shouldn't help civilians, and should focus on other things. His loved one, his hunters. He was an example of what happened when a hunter had things outside the hunt. Camaraderie, love. The reasons for his mistakes. Love the strongest, if she could call what he felt for Maria love; it felt more like obsession, if the accounts she read of him were accurate.

Amazing documents. Easy to read, direct. She knew from the first page whether or not something would be of use to her, and it made her task far simpler. The only problem now was the vast amount of information. Before she'd had little to go on, but now everything here was relevant in some way.

Now, what did she know that could help her? Maria and the Doll had a connection, she'd have to look into that, that us why Doll was acting weird recentely. Perhaps Maria's death had triggered something? And the thing she found in the workshop, according to the papers, was a piece of the umbilical cord of a Great One, used in the ritual. What was important was that the thing that had attended Gehrman on his wish couldn't be defeated by pure will, it needed to consume this thing to…actually, she didn't understand why, but it was needed. The explanation had to be in another language, because she couldn't understand a single word of it.

The being that helped Gehrman was itself interesting. This so-called Moon Presence wasn't the only one of its kind, either. There was others. All of these beings were to blame for what had happened to her and the city, everything was for their objectives. Killing each other, the Moon Presence using the hunters, providing the blood necessary and access to the dream when she needed them. That was why hunters had suddenly stopped being made ten years ago, probably when a nameless being was created. She knew the reason of her existence, to assume Gehrman's place by killing him. She'd gotten some tips from Simon and confirmation on this place. A workshop leader couldn't retire; he died in a duel and then his killer assumed the position. Still, why she wasn't created before? Why not a year after Gehrman assumed his spot? Her existence was an endgame: destroy Yharnam, and with that, the reason for the fight between the two old ones.

A strange situation, this fight between two foes. They had no reason to fight, they desired the same thing—and still they fought, destroying the entire city in the process. They'd killed a child Old One, Mergo, according to the reports. They had decided to use this town as their puppet, for their needs, so she would make sure that they wouldn't ever manage that again. She picked up a key to the Upper Cathedral Ward, where hidden deep down was the real controller of the Church, not this so-called Choir. She was going to visit Ebrietas.

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	20. Chapter 20

**This chapter was written without a beta, so forgive me for any grammar mistakes.**

An old one, a creature that had transcended even the notions of creature or living being, becoming something akin to a god. Entire civilizations worshiped then, tales about then were told millennia after their passages in some places. Such things that were beyond human experience along that knowledge that mere mortals couldn't seen then or just get crazy by a mere glimpse the brain couldn't process what was in front of him and they smelled like dead rats.

How she know the smell of dead rats? To much time on the sewers and some memor….. things that she record…. That she knew told that this smell was of dead rats. Strangely, she noticed the smell just after the battle, probably as she was focus on killing the god on front of her. Still when she killed other beings, she never smelled dead rats…. Or she did?

Still a giant corpse was in front of her, sprawling through the place where they had fought. So that was an old one, a full fleshed one, not a baby, but a real one, that was what made so many get crazy for? Religions, cults for that? A disgusting thing? That was the next step of evolution?, it just sounded like the next step for beasthood….. it was a step the last one of a series of increasing absurd. It started with transformed babies, passed through "elevated children'' to end in pinnacle of evolution.

End it has, with her actions there wasn't any healing church or choir as her central point of knowledge was destroyed alongside their entire structures. That was it, almost at the end of this hunt, all of the beasts had been hunted, now just a bit more touches for it to end. Then…..

Just that the end of all, was it wrong to desire it? She was just like one of the insects that Maria had study when she was younger the Mayflies. Just to live for a day, instead of creating life, she was tasked to ended it, just a bit more and all would be over, just a bit more for all to end. It wasn't wrong to desire for it to end, she was created for a purpose, not to live, to kill, no to grow, so she was tranquil for the end of her path, eternal tranquility… not even that just nonexistence, what a wonderful thing would be. No hunt, no lies, no questions, no desire, no hunger and no mistakes…..

Her arms felt heavier this time they were heavy as chains were there, the ribbon wasn't there anymore but still she could fell it. She would always feel it was marked on her body, the ribbons, chains of all the ones she killed, that ones she destroyed for this hunt.

She couldn't just let it go….. tranquility, peace simply non existing was to much for a being like her, a disgusting horrible thing as her. A monster that followed orders, consuming all around her in her task and not knowing with a ridiculous belief that it was doing a good thing, a hero thing. That was her good deeds kill an entire city, how many had she devoured?

She couldn't simple be gone it was to good, not she must continue fighting beasts, more and more each moment was a suffering. That was fitting each moment of her life was a suffering, her body didn't feel right, her mind, was against her reminding her of false memories and horrible deeds. No forgetting the amount of pain and hurt she passed fighting, every minute was filled with nothing but that….. it wasn't enough….. it would never be enough for her actions… never enough.

* * *

Go to the grand cathedral and fight a beast.

A person

That was a strange letter, even stranger was that the messengers passed to her, this message, somehow this person had managed to make the hunter dream receive it. It wasn't Gerhman, why he would care about beasts? As the only left being for her to kill was the unborn child of a great one, the reason that all of this started and of her existence. She still didn't know why this old ones tried to kill others like then and to even manipulate an entire city for that. For just a baby?

As always it didn't matter, the reason of why the wanted but it mattered that the consequences, her existence and actions then her killing all of then. Now just check this beast, kill her and proceed to kill the baby then get the last of the umbilical cords, she wanted to do it quickly.

As she climbed the stairs for the interior of the cathedral, sound were coming from the inside, it wasn't beast sounds as growling or eating it was of fight. She quickly started to climb the stars faster, what kinda of things were fighting maybe someone on this city was still aliv….

There was two crows fighting, the two were wearing the same clothes, except for their heads one using a doctor mask another a helmet… that looked familiar as she had seen both in the memories and in her short life. Still the weapons used was what distinguish more then, one using the Chikage alongside a pistol and the other the blades of mercy.

So Eileen was fighting was fighting a rogue hunter, then she best help her, she could be the hunter of hunters but it was best for hunter to hunt together….damn memories, appearing again, not now, now she needed to kill.

Before she helped Eileen, the two fighters noticed her presence, it prompted a quick stop to the fight between the two, as at the moment thing didn't look very good for the hunter of hunters. Blood could see it dripping from her clothes, the fabric of her clothes teared in multiple places or the blood had made skin and clothes get stick together. Showing even more damage, this didn't diminish her need for the fight, still it sapped her strength.

In contrast her enemy looked magnificent, just there with his clothes with no damage, not even blood was spilled on then. The stuffed chest while he looked at the nameless and not showing a pound of care to his enemy that laid an away to his left to him he had already won the battle, not he it need some finishing touches.

"So good to meet another Cainhurst Knight, I heard much about you"

She prepared herself, let him speak, she would wait for a good opportunity to attack, his posture of arrogance was a trap, how else he could have gained the upper hand against Eileen so just wait for a chance.

"A fitting end for this night meeting you, kill this monkey so we can finally together resurrect the Queen''

He was with no opens in his defense, he was completely aware of her movements, anything she did, it would be deflected, so wait as him continued to speak.

"Just as was promised, soon we will end this decadent society and construct a new one with the finally taking our place and getting rid of the rest of slum"

She could imagine a society reigned by Cainhurst, a parasite jumping from city to city consuming everything in it's awake. She could see, a horizon of knights all addicted to the Annalise blood, obeying the orders of the eternal queen, always voracious for more blood. Never stopping, always moving a plague corrupting everything in it's awake for it wanted and needed. For eternity, just like it's queen, filled with blood the swee….. no, that was enough, no more.

Before, she could move, attack him, a figure was already moving at his direction, it was like a blur of how fast it was moving. He noticed and prepared to defend, as she could see it was Eilleen…

It wasn't much of a fight, or even a duel it was more as a butcher cutting meat…

He tried to defend, she attacked an unprotected part, he tried to attack, she dodged and attacked without stop, he move back to shot and recover, she was already there negating any chance of recover. Every attack, he made, he received a cut, every defense another cut, every retreat, one more cut, every movement was followed with some sort of attack. Legs, arms, chest, hands all parts of his body were showing cuts or lacerations all of then precise, the nameless wished she could be this precise in a cut.

Until, it stopped, a quick movement, he tried an attack, then…..Eileen weapon was on his gut and a shower of blood and he fell on his knees. His weapons had fallen as he tried to stop the blood coming out of the wound.

"How a mon….. It wasn't supposed to be like that, it has been written, the superiors will rise, it's a destiny…. It can't…''

Eileen had already put his knife away and shot him in the middle of chest, the heart, he fell to the ground, the nameless could swear she heard some last words

"Was I wrong? All fo…..."

The hunter of hunters turned to her

"….Have you find out?''

She approached her, too not so close, a hunter always keep a safe space from anyone even his hunter companions…. Dammit again,

"Yes, I did….. it was him that inflicted all these damage on you?"

The crow looked at his own clothes, the wounds and damage, not for a moment without showing attention to the hunter in front of her.

"He ambushed me, throw some of the Cainhurst powder in me and attack without stopping, I only need some seconds and your arrival was what provided that, the second time on this night thank you litt…..hunter.

"Was he skilled? To attack you and inflict this amount of damage"

"He was fast, still repetitive attacks patterns and few movements, who ever trained him, only teach him the basics, the rest he developed on his own. Developing your own way of attacking and dodge, is a guarantee to lead to problems."

The hunter did a small laugh

"Just like me?"

"No because well, your weren't learning you were repeating, movements with years and years of development with some tweaks and changes….

"Nothing mine…."

She said very low, not intent to anyone to listen, an instinctive response, one she was getting used too but the Crow listened.

"The changes of the style were yours"

"They were only possible, thanks to memories of others put on me" The hunters sighed

"How you use this memories and knowledge was of your free will and choice"

"Free will and choice aren't things that you are born with, but are molded by the memories and previous experiences none of them mine. I am the amalgam of hunters, created to fight and follow a specific set of orders, there is no me, just an it, my blood isn't even mine but of others to make this" She pointed at herself, the two stayed in silence, as the only thing to be heard was the sound of hunt, until it was stopped as a voice interrupted it

"What are you going to do now? That you have science of the truth"

"What happen when the house is infected with beasts?" The hunter said while chuckling, not for laugh noticed the Crow more of madness

"You burn it down" The nameless said laughing

Then she stopped "I will go to the Dream, kill Gerhman, find who ever created and is in control of the Dream and kill it"

"You can't"

"What did you said Eileen?"

"You can't kill an Old One"

The hunter laughed "I just did that, the corpse is behind this altar of the Cathedral"

"Killing it's physical form isn't a problem, killing him completely is, the corpse is dead the spirit lives and there is another problem" The Crow crossed her arms, for a moment she stayed in silence

"To face it, the one controlling the dream you will need, to be close to him as possible, become one of then….by winning against it, you will become one of then"

"What is the problem of that?" The Crow just stared at the hunter, even with the mask, the hunter could feel the stare and she didn't cared

"You won't even die, you will simply stop existing, the transformation will break your mind, you won't be a human, but a monster"

"No problem, I am already a monster"

"As you don't care about yourself, you will become one of the ones that you want to kill, what will stop you to become just like then?"

The hunter shrugged "Nothing, but doing nothing, will only continue the problem"

"Don't lie, you aren't doing this to stop a problem, you want to revenge and….. the same thing all hunters seek for their deeds on a hunt. You won't find it, none of then, either by killing Gehrman or the old one, you are playing in their plans"

"Their plans involve in the end, that one of then is alive, I won't let any of then alive for that. Our deeds are justified, as all of our actions, it isn't what Gehrmain tell to all hunters, as the Church tell to theirs."

"If our deeds are justified why do you carried in your outfit the lace of a dead girl, one that because of your actions was killed? Why carry a useless remembrance? Her death doesn't need to be mourn or remembered, all our actions are valid, right hunter?

The hunter stayed in silence, she turned around not a word of to the Crow about her departure, some actions are louder then words, but the Hunter of Hunters had some words to say

"I can't allow you to continue in this path, if you want to continue despite my warnings up to you, that is my problem.

The Crow remove his weapons of it's sheaths, the noise alerting the hunter, that turned around

"Still what I am doing isn't about you anymore. this concern much more then yourself and your seek for punishment"

The nameless looked at the Crow posture

"What do you want? For me to abandon my quest?" The hunter also remove it's weapon from the sheaths, the pistol and the Rakuyo.

"You can continue your seek, just when the time arrive, allow to be severed of the dream."

The hunter did a quick laugh

"And allow the ones that made me to walk free?

"You will destroy their plans, they need you to fight to resist if you accept you will be free, you will have the choice to make your own destiny. Not dwelling in the past and old mistakes, you can atone in another way"

The nameless pointed the blade at the Crow, her voice trembling as she spoke

"I had this illusion once, to get out of this nightmare, to forget the hunt and atone my deeds in another way. There is a simple problem, there isn't other way to me, I was molded and created for a function, I can't live another life, because I don't know how, I can't forget, because if I forget what else of me is left? Fake memories and experiences? I am not a dweller of the past and old mistakes, I am it, a creation of decrepit hunter, molded by his with his guide to take his life as his is incapable of solving the problems he created. I know the way I will atone….

The Crow voice change of it's normal tone, to a more calm one, a pleading "Please don't make do this, there is always an another path"

The hunter advanced uncaring by the words

"Then another one that I failed" Eileen said as the two moved, the weapons were already drawn, the two of then deciding to use their blades in the two hand mode. That is why, when the two clashed, they each manage to stop each other. The hunter katana was in a lock against one of the daggers of Eileen and her other dagger was at the same situation. For some seconds they both stayed on this position, both applying force, trying to make the other to lose the clash and score a hit. No space was given, then the clash stopped as the two removed themselves for it, trying to get the other in surprise and the blades hit each other again.

This time, they didn't stop, they continue both attacking without stopping and defending at the same time. Hit upon hit was delivered by the two, each one was block or deflected, steps were make forward and backwards as the fought. It would looked like a dance to anyone else, as until the moment none of then had managed to hit the other beside some small slashes on the clothes.

The katana of the hunter allowed her a bigger reach then the Crow dagger but it was slower allowing that if the Crow dodged an attack from it a quick counter would be possible. That was not possible for the Crow as the dagger that the nameless had, was deflecting the attacks.

By that none of then managed to break or pass each other defense, so they proceed on that dance, steps taken back and forward, all accompanied with attacks and blocks. The cathedral was filled with just the sounds of the blades clashing, the only proofs that there was a fighting happening. Even as the both where traversing all of the space of the cathedral, while clashing, both always avoiding to get caught against a wall and a body in the middle of it.

Everything has to reach an end so it did, a small misstep by the hunter, a foot to close of her enemy, an opening, and a hand holding a dagger flying in the air. Next both hunter and Crow where close to each other, so close that some would call a lover embrace, they just stared at each other until one of then fell to the ground.

A blade was sticking out of the one on the ground, the katana had crossed the chest, the hunter slowly advance to the fallen hand, she picked put on a pocket. Then proceed to inject some blood vials on her open wound and on the severed part then proceed to put the two back together. She stayed some moments holding the two together, then proceed to put a bandage around the cut and some more blood vials. It would take some time for it to close perfectly, still she at least wouldn't lost her hand, she would need all parts for what was coming.

A voice break the silence of the Cathedral "Never turn your back on the enemy, didn't you learning this?"

The hunter proceed to the origin of the sound, the Crow on the ground with the blade still on the body

"I did, but you aren't my enemy anymore…..just a corpse"

Then proceed the sword of the wound and stick it again at another part of the chest

"Always hit twice a fallen beast even if appears to be dead" The crow voice was normal, as she there weren't two wounds at her chest that cut both of her lungs and a wound to her heart.

"You learned well"

The hunter cleaned the blade and united the katana and the dagger, not showing any change by the words or what she had done. She removed his pistol and approached Eileen.

"Any last words?"

The Crow laughed, she coughed, the blood probably had started to enter on her throat thought the hunter.

"Strange you offering this kindness to me, aren't hunters supposed to just kill your enemies? And aren't you the perfect hunter?"

The hunter stayed silent, so the Crow continued

"I told you about a part of the hunter past and you discovered the rest, so you are ready for what come next…"

The pistol moved to point to the head

"Have you seen the sunrise of Yharnam? It's so beautiful, it look so much like home, it rise from the lake, first weakly, just some light rays, so weak….. that is best part of the hunt, seeing the sun to rise, the promise of a new day….

"There is no new day for us hunters, just the hunt, the night"

Another laugh this time, another cough, much more stronger this time.

"There is something beyond the night, out of this Cathedral, out of Yharnam, you have to keep looking. Because when this all end, what will you do?"

The hunter was prepared to shoot, she couldn't manage, she had proceed and advanced so much, many more she had killed without thought…..

"Don't worry, you're not killing me, I am going home, I am go see the sunrise, rising from the Kuguru Kuna N'goz, I always to see what was on top of it, imagine the beauty that could be seen from their. In the end I reached the top…..Yharnam

"I am sorry, I failed to save Pablo, Heinz, Hilda, Julia, Matthias and so many more, all dead, all by me. Even when I am going to die, my death isn't saving anyone just condemning another one, what a failure I was"

The hunter shot, still the nameless heard the last words, almost:

"You exist, so you are, if you exist there is always the chance for change don't forget this, pleas….."

She didn't moved an inch after the shot, entranced by what she had done, it was broke by another voice, one that she immediately turned to.

"Did you think that me, was going to be gone by just a few shots and quick fight?"

It was the other crow, the figure Eileen was fighting, now it was without it's helmet, large hair and extreme white skin…..

"You're an Albin"

"Of course, I am, What do you thought of me being, a low inferior?

The hunter moved the gun to aim at the Albion, right at the head

"Wait, I can tell so much to you, about so many things, about the true of the world and the place of everyone and your place in it. You aren't just a creation of someone else but something so bigger, I can tell all to you, I can show you another way….

The hunter just continued pointing the gun

"I am sick of lies and this one is the worst type, you're telling what I want to hear, not what is true,"

"Can't you see, we were destined to meet or do you think, that all of my travel and tale to here was for nothing?"

"It wasn't for nothing, you remember me of before the true was discovered, always thinking that knew all that was to know, no questions or thought applied to any action. Just following orders, you're a version of me that is no more and will stay this way"

She shot and this time, the Albion fell, the bullet right between the eyes, the corpse fell and only the dead remained in the Cathedral

"And I will make sure, that no Yharnam happen again, no Albions or Church, nothing of this will happen again"

* * *

The doll was waiting, at the start of the stairs waiting for the hunter, it was almost over, soon the good hunter would leave….. Then what? She wasn't supposed to think in this terms or about this, as the answer was clear when the good hunter left another one would replace it.

She didn't want that to happen, she wanted to continue to serve this good hunter, not another one, none of the other made her…. Made her to be like this. It wasn't right or good for the hunt, still…..still she wanted to be like this. But why? Why she wanted it? What she gained for her current condition? What was her fear? She contemplated for some time, to be like before, empty, she feared what she was.

In this moment the good hunter appeared, she approached the doll without words she knew, the hunter knelled and the blood echoes were removed. Then only after this ritual, realized in silent, words were said

"Doll, tell me what is the most prestigious burial that can be done to a hunter?"

"The most sacred was a sky burial, used in the start of the hunt to the leaders of the Hunter Workshops and the figures of the Hunter of hunter, anything else good hunter?

"Yes, how to do one"

The doll looked at the hunter, she felt something…. It was a something, that at this time, she had read about, Concern. What happened to make her, want to know how to do a burial? Hunters don't bury it's enemy, but people do that for the ones that they care about. Had she lost someone?

For a moment the doll didn't answered, she just looked at the hunter with her inexpressive eyes and face. The hunter didn't care about the wait, but cared much more for the words that left the Doll mouth some moments later.

It wasn't hard to find a clinic in Yharnam, the problem was one that had what she wanted and the fact that she was carrying a body make the task a bit harder. The process of her gently putting the body on the floor to check one of the clinics or kill some beasts in sight was over, as she found it what she wanted.

It was just like any other blood clinic, a lot of chairs to the transfusion some beds for it too and tons of blood bags broken on the ground by the beasts, all dead, she made it sure. What was special was the room that she took the body, a white tiles, covered the room, some tables with a strange machine on each one and a shower head that could reach any space of the room.

She gently put the body in one of the tables, then she started the process of removing Eileen clothes, she didn't use a knife. Piece by piece the attire was removed, first the cape made of feathers, crow ones, then the boots, layer by layer. She clumsy folded the clothes as she took out then, apparently her memories didn't contain the knowledge of folding.

Until there was a naked body, in front of her, it was an old body, she could that at wrinkles on the face and the general appearance of the face. The gray hair was a contrast to the dark skin, in some moment it was black, she could see see traces of it. Her body was similar to that of the hunter, scars upon scars of all types except on the face that had few, maybe the mask protect it better?

She picked the shower head and cleaned the body, blood and other dirt was removed from it, she passed water in every part of it. Then she moved to one of the strange machines next to the table, picked some needles and recipients that where next it and moved to the body.

Then she started to inject the liquid of the recipient on it, four on each leg, four on the main body, three in each arm and three on the head. Then she picked some tubes on the strange machine with needles on then and injected, there were six and each one was put on each member. She turn on the machine and looked while it did it's function.

Some minutes passed and it stopped she moved to the machine and there it was jars filled with blood, four in totals. She looked at the body and at the jars, now that all would be hard to carry.

She set the body on the ground the jars of blood were next to the body, she removed a knife from her clothes. She could see the entire city from the top of this tower, some birds were flying around the tower, that was good, then she started.

She fixed the body to a pillar by a rope, then the limbs by rope too, then she started cutting, first the meat of each limb was removed, she put it next to he body. After the limbs were cleaned of flesh, she moved to the abdomen and carefully each organ was removed and put next to the removed flesh. After all that she moved the entire flesh to the extreme of the tower as she return, birds appear, crows, hundreds of then. Still not twisted by the blood and probably they wouldn't, for it they would need a good amount of bodies consumed, one more wouldn't make a difference.

As the birds devoured the flesh, she proceed to the bones that she put on a pot and one by one breaking until it become dust, then adding the blood of the jar, to the mixture from time to time. She done that until the jar were empty and no more bones were left. Then she put the contents of the pot again on the extremity of the tower where no traces of the meat was before. As she did that the birds appeared again, in seconds all of the blood and bones mixture was gone

All was gone, there was no trace anymore of Eileen, she was gone forever, only her clothes and knife would be an indicative of her existence… for now…

Strange, it was raining? Because the clothes on her chest was wet, had it been raining? The cloth covering her moth was wet too, what was happening? Ohhhh, strange, she fought she had no place for tears anymore, she was crying and for a long time, maybe since the start of the burial.

Why? She had killed before and even performed burial rites, mostly just involve burning the body, but still why? Eileen cared… the hunter just looked at the horizon, some one cared about her and this person was dead. Someone that was determined to stop her of committing mistakes, forgive her for her deeds and even in the end was fighting to stop her of becoming something worst then a monster… she killed this person, without thought or care… this time, the weight of her actions was discovered, not excuses or madness could hide it.

So the tears fell freely and the screams of pain could be heard, echoing across the infected city, it was for more then just Eileen, it was for everything. Her death was what made the dam broke, all of the death, pain and revelations were returning to her, all at the same time. Each memory and action, had returned to torment and haunt her only making more tears to fall….. that was the last time the nameless would cry in her life, after the end of the tears the nameless would become a true hunter. Even in death Eileen had failed again, the hunter would never forget or let it go now, this moment would be forever marked on her. A fate was sealed, death would be the only release from it.

 **Review, favorite or PM, one more to go...**

 **The type of the sky burial realized on this chapter was inspired on Tibetan one, with some modifications of my part.**

 **The appearance of Eileen was based on the drawing of the artist CalSantiago at Deviant Art and on the Voice Actress of the character, I don't like to justify my choices but I know how the internet works, specially on this case.** **  
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	21. Chapter 21

**I apologize for any grammar mistakes, the beta is gone, I don't speak English as my native tongue, I tried to correct any mistakes to the best of my abilities. I hope that the story compensate for the probably bad grammar. The cover of the story is now a art made by SofiaMunhoz, also** **DRMAK made a short story inspired on this one, I thank both of then, it feel me with joy seeing others being inspired by my work.  
**

Fire was consuming the hunter workshop, the books, the supplies all was being destroyed, it was strange, was she supposed to feel something? This place was she should consider her home, as she was born here in all maters of the world. Now it was ending the place she stayed most of her tiny life and it didn't matter to her, nothing inside the workshop was of any worth. The weapons were at the outside, some clothes a good amount of supplies, the rune workshop tool, the blood gem tool, so nothing was lost.

Doll was at her side watching the burning, unfazed too by what was happening maybe because she was reading a book or by her own nature. She stop reading, slowly closing the book and tossing into the fire.

"Good Hunter what is it your wish?"

"Nothing, Doll….. He is waiting at the garden, isn't he?

"Yes…. Do you wish for me to go with you?"

It had been a long time since the hunter looked at Doll, actually looked at her and in the same way actually talked to her

"I would like that"

They both walked in silence until the entrance of the garden, the hunter didn't said a word while she entered, the flowers touched her pants, the strange fragrance of then….. While the hunter was walking in direction of it's fate, the Doll just stood there, her complexity appeared just like her appearance unfazed.

What a deceit, her mind was mess, conflicted thoughts were running without stop, no problems or questions at her mind where new but now she could knew that they existed. What was that supposed to be? She was created for a function, she couldn't simply decide to go against or to seek for something new alas it was her fate. She wanted to stop the hunter, stop her to hurt even more, she couldn't, her function dictated to watch and help, never to stop. Still her want to stop the hunter wasn't just another part of her programming? What way to better help hunters then stop then of doing there dangerous tasks? Still she wanted to stop the good hunter of her own free will? But an instrument had a free will? What part of her, was her?

As the Doll continue to think about her own existence, her earlier thought of following her duty forgotten, all of this thinking due to the end of the hunt. It wasn't the first time, she had this thoughts, and depending what happened at the garden, she would have it again, again and again. All where trapped at a cycle, the city, hunters, beasts….. there was no alternate path for those inside, always fated to repeat…

* * *

The smell of flowers was so weird, it was like nothing else she had faced until now, she couldn't even put in words. So different from the usual smells she dealt with it wasn't rancid, acid it was something new…. For her at least. Adding that she was almost certain that was the first time seeing a flower, not even her fake memories had then, she knew the name and function but no the real.

This wasn't good, she didn't want new or strange, it could distract her of the fight that was bound to happen. All this garden was a problem, it was bright, colorful and open, she didn't like it, at all, she would have preferred a fight inside a sewer without light. That was where she had been conditioned to fight, not here on a place with so much brightness, maybe it was a tactic of Gehrman?

Hunters have to squeeze every advantage and facing your enemy in a territory unknown and hostile to then was a good tactic. This place was as she continue to venture inside a death trap, open with multiples places where an attack could come from, the flowers where deep enough to hide enemies on then specially if they were wearing white clothes. Even more insidious was the brightness, she never had seen it, such natural light, not even the brief time she saw the twilight at her arrival could compare to this.

At least, her target wasn't hidden or far away, he was close waiting at the base of a tree, at his wheelchair, the same face and place that she had seen him all the earlier time. She approached with the weapon in her hand, she wouldn't start a fight… for now, she just needed to confirm something. He started to speak, as she got close enough, she interrupted him:

"What am I?"

"What do you mean by that hunter?"

"I know everything, Gehrman"

He didn't show any sign of care or surprise to this revelation, he continued with the same posture and tone of voice.

"That is a strange question and the answer is obvious, you're a hunter. Now please, question decently

"Where did I came from?"

"A womb, next"

"From a woman?"

"No, from a man, what kinda of question was that?"

That wasn't how she viewed how this conversation would happen, at least he was answering the questions…..

"Who were my parents?"

"Your mother was a hooker, the father is unknown, don't need to say anything, I will add some more details. You're mother sold you to me, I don't know her identity or name, I just give her a bag of gold and some litters of blood and received a baby.

He continued, strange… she was feeling nothing, no anger or hate, just nothing.

"What did you expected? That you're the lost children of some rich family?"

He was right, what she actually expected?

"Why me?"

"Your mother was the first in line"

She stayed in silence

"No more questions?"

"Whenever you want to start, you just need to say "I refuse"

"I refuse"

* * *

This was strange… The scythe is coming from the right side, it will descend, two steps back and it will pass harmless, he will follow-up with another attack using the elbow, dodge this one then attack….

Was she supposed to feel this?… He jumped in the air, wait a bit... one, two, three, jump to the left, he is open now charge and release…..

this nothing?… Changed stances, now it will be faster, just attack when he finish the third strike, a brief window, don't get greedy….

Wasn't she supposed to scream? Demand answers? Cry even?….. get down, then roll to the side and shoot him….

Now there is just that, this void, this nothing…. Shoot, he stumbled now, now charge and release, then follow-up with another attack….

Why didn't she demanded more? Of how was she created, made or anything?…... Why I stayed in silence?….. His blade pass centimeters from the neck, get down, now his blade return cutting back where my neck was, now he is open, now time to attack…..

It wasn't a she, it was me, I didn't talked, I didn't demand… Punch, dodge the blade, another punch, no space to use the weapon, move to the left and throw another fist

For some reason, I feel the need to thanks, Gehrman, things are much easier now, no questions, problems, emotions… His scythe is coming, wait a bit…. Shoot, he is open now, charge and release.

If I not feel anything, why I am fighting him? Why not just stand in the dream for eternity? Or wandering trough the eternal night of Yharnam? ….Gehrman just exploded, a strange aura emits from his body, he attack, so fast, dodge to the right, shoot, dodge again and another shoot.

I don't feel anything anymore but I remember feeling a sense of duty to end the hunt and rage against Gehrman. It's worth fighting for just this memories?…. His scythe comes again, move ahead and attack, ignore the damage, attacking will heal.

There is another thing that is moving me…... I remember all the killing I did this night, beasts, people, gods…. Strange…. I lied to myself, I can feel something about that and… it hurts…...

* * *

There are many words to say about Gehrman life, so many, books could be told about it, but for the moment, I think that all that is necessary is that he didn't died with Maria in his mind or the Hunter. He died with just the thought of release, such a euphoric thought that it occupied all spaces of him as life left his body.

Not so different from the mind of the Doll, looking of the scene of Gehrman dying, she didn't feel angry, vindicated or sad. She felt confused, unbelief, incapable of grasping of what just happened, never in here mind could Gerhman die.

He was like the plants, the gravestones, the hunt and her unchanging, eternal… the hunter just stayed there looking at the corpse that was gone. Maybe she should approach…. Just to see if she would need any help at the hunt, of course

A goal made impossible by a strong wind that almost made her fell on the ground, she quickly balanced herself but not the hunter. Not only the wind hit her, but made her weapons and clothes vanish, that wasn't the sight that drawn the attention of the Doll, what did was a gigantic mass descending from the moon to the garden.

The doll know of course what it was, it was over for the hunter, it would bound her to the dream and everything would repeat. The hunter was without the weapons or it's attire as it was given to the dream and now it's master demand it back. Still… there was something that Doll could do…..it would be against everything she was created for. It would put the hunter at stake, against the will of the hunt and it's master, still…..

The doll slowly kneel the little ones creatures appeared at her feet carrying an old badge, she picked and looked at it. It was so old that her meaning was forgotten to all but to it's last owner that was recently deceased, a little force with her finger and would break. Still it meant something, that was important, it just need a little push, a last call to action, that would need something to fuel this call. She knew exactly what to give, the old beings of the legends used souls, the hunter used blood echoes, she would use herself.

The gown of the doll vanish, it was still not enough, the shawl was next, it need much more, piece by piece was gone, things have value of much they meant, this clothes wouldn't be enough. She gave it more, first it was a piece of her, then her finger, then her feet, then the rest of her arms, it didn't stop and she would allow it.

As she was being consumed, she wasn't angry, sad or crying, she was at peace, as the magic consumed her entire body. It wasn't enough, so she started to give, the little things that she had, the memories of the hunters that arrived at this workshop, how the Crow Hunter liked to have tea each time she arrived and…

Then it ended and she started to give the more hurtful ones, when the hunters arrived in pain, all the times Gehrman shot her, when the hunters left to hunt beasts and her fear of then getting hurt….

Now the happy ones, when a hunter finally managed to defeat a beast and they arrived so happy, some of then even offered her drinks for commemoration. She refused all then of course, she enjoyed this time, they were happy and that was all that mattered….

Who was she? She…. She was…. Something…. That was supposed to help hunters?….. what were hunters? What was help? She didn't know but why, she knew that she had to give more right? To this "help" happen to a "hunter"….

Then nothing was left

* * *

How she thought that would work? Consume three umbilical cords of older ones and get enough power to fight the thing controlling the hunter dream. It sounded delusional when she had read, now as the thing called Moon Presence was approaching, the Hunter was incapable of moving, it was delusional. How eating remains of other beings would give her some power against this? This wasn't like all the others she faced, it was much bigger then a mere beast in all senses of the word.

It wasn't make any movements beside slowly descending from the sky, she wanted to run to the burned remains of the house and search for any weapons to shoot this thing. She couldn't just even move, this Moon Presence was stopping her of managing any resistance. The hunter was at it's creature lair, using instruments provided by it, in the end it wasn't so strange that now it was using her like a puppet.

So it was in that moment that the Moon Presence feel an irregularity in it's centuries old plans, ones that were so complex that the human mind could never comprehend it's scope and goals. It was coming from somewhere in her domains, it was coming from one of it's instruments, what it was doing?

The hunter exploded with light, one moment, she was naked, unarmed and trapped by the snare and power of the moon presence. After this explosion of light, she was dressed, armed and free, she could move her limbs again and at her hands was a blunderbuss and the burial blade. Her clothes were the classic hunter attire…. There was something at her pocket, she didn't know how she know it but there was something at the back of her mind telling to check it.

It was two things, the bone of Maria that she gave Gehrman a long time ago and….. a broken crystal, it looked similar….. it was the tear that Doll shred…. It was destroyed now, the hunter understood what that meant, another one…..

The Moon Presence had been throw back by the explosion, the hunter picked the bone quickly tied to it's left wrist. The burial blade was put at it's scythe mode, she checked the clothes full with bullets and blood vials. She was ready for just one more fight, just one more beast…just one more time.

She started to run, her enemy had been stunned, by what had just happened, it's appearance was even worse than all the others beasts she faced. This wasn't a mockery of the human form, neither something completely alien, it was a disgusting mix of the two notions. Tentacles sprouting from the back and something that looked like a head, long arms and legs that belonged to some bipedal beast in the way they were. What made most of the body was just the spine with the chest open, the ribs looking like something as a mouth, the thing didn't have a heart…. She would have to cut the head….

Her first hit at the being considered a god among dozens of dimensions was lackluster, not that it didn't hit it was straight at the point, at the middle with the intention to cut it in half. The problem was that it didn't cut, it cut through the flesh and bone with easy still the body remained together. Immediately she had to dodge as the thing jumped back with the tentacles at it's back almost hitting the hunter.

She moved close and another hit was made, the time at the thing, gut? As earlier that thing wasn't cut in half but as before, blood was spilled of the thing. She attack again and again, only blood was spilled, no clear damage was show at the body, different when the being attacked. As she was hit immediately she was jumping back and a blood vial was injected at the point where she felt pain, her entire chest.

She dodged another claw attack, she of course followed with one of her own, then the thing jumped back, her chest was weird, the pain was still going. As she was running at the direction of the enemy, a giant piece of meat, bones and blood suddenly appeared atop of the hunter. She immediately dodged to the right as the thing crashed on the flower, another one happened, then another.

The damn Moon Presence was making these things, she tried to advance just to four of those thing appearing ahead of her, if she went ahead, this wold crush her. She dodged to the left this time, she at some point would lose her breath and then she would be hit by these mass of meat.

The hunter would need to be faster than blobs failing at her, she could try to run or….hope that this time Gehrman didn't lie about something. She shook her left hand, she felt a draining sensation, the next blob when she went to dodged, she didn't simply dodge it. She disappeared and appeared when she wanted to dodge, much faster than before, well now things would get interesting.

* * *

A curious thing about the garden beside the fight between an old god and a hunter was the flowers, they were all white during the fight with Gehrman. When he died and Doll vanished, they changed it's color went for white to red, a minor thing in comparison to the grand scope of what was happening.

Still when a giant flurry of red petals of the flowers that reassembled a lot roses started to appear at every quickstep that the hunter was doing. If Moon Presence was a lesser being it would find very fitting for the figure that was coming at it's direction to be making flurry of red petals. It would probably laugh, crack a joke, or make a commentary about forced references for the sake of audiences expectations. Alas the only action of this being was to create even more of the blobs of meat to stop it's enemy, it was a useless action, the hunter had already reached it's target.

* * *

A simple thing that didn't need implanted memories or the teachings of an old obsessed man was to never take stupid risks. Why fight against two beasts at the same time if she could attract one of then with a pebble, if carrying a large charge blood echoes better retreat to the dream and ask for Doll to channel it. It's something that she learned quickly, when you could play safe, do it….. she really shouldn't do her next action, she should do a simple slash at the face of her enemy…..

As the moment that the her slash was going to connect, instead of a scythe traversing the flesh of the Moon Presence a flurry of red flowers petals hit it. Not even a second after this complete harmless attack, a hunter popped at the back of the old god at the full speed of her run, it wasn't a good hit, it was a brutal one.

She didn't simply popped of existence, her body was at the vertical side, by that her scythe wasn't ready to slash but to penetrate the flesh. Her attack was targeted this time at the body, it hit it's mark completely, not only that it was so strong that the scythe cut the flesh, forced the entire body to the ground.

The hunter by it's movement manage to dislocated it's right shoulder and landed in a weird position, quickly it raised up, the enemy wasn't dead. The attack had been so strong that the scythe had pinned the body of the Moon Presence to the ground, she simply picked the blunderbuss with her left hand, took aim at the head and didn't stop shooting.

Unfortunately the situation didn't last long in a fit of acrobatics and body contortion rarely seen, the old being manage to rotate it's upper body and deliver two slashes at the hunter. This time she was sent a good distance as her scythe was immediately removed, landing a close distance of her fall.

As always she quickly raised up, this time a gigantic amount of pain hit her chest and gut, she looked down… and she was pretty sure that she wasn't supposed to be seeing her ribs, lungs, heart and that was her stomach? She injected blood vials no stop at her body until she stopped seeing her organs, bones and her skin was back at her upper body. As soon her body heal, she picked the scythe of the ground, the being wasn't dead neither it looked like it was wounded, this would change.

* * *

It didn't change, she had attack the Moon Presence multiples times, slashing, shooting, penetrating, kicking even and nothing. Sure blood was spilled at huge amounts but no visible damage was seen, no marks of penetrations or cuts. She had no way to know if she was getting closer to defeat this thing, even worst she could all this time causing no damage.

The next move was new, at least her enemy put one of her hand at her head and screamed, this time the hunter wasn't hit, neither she felt pain. Her only feeling was sucking, she felt as her life was being drained for her body, she was feeling weak by the moment. She ran at the direction of the old one, her weapon being transformed in a curved sword and the blunderbusss was ready.

The thing was still with it's hand on it's head, the hunter attacked, at this moment she was with no intention to give damage but to cause pain. She shot as attacking, kicking, using the blunderbuss as a club, anything that caused some pain quickly. The feeling of draining didn't stop but by each attack she was hitting, she was putting more to be drained, the sensation stopped, a gigantic scream was heard and everything exploded.

The Moon Presence wasn't on the ground anymore it was on the sky, it's arms open, it's tentacles moving as her having it's own conscious. The hunter tried to shoot it but for some reasons the bullets weren't hit, they were being repelled by some reason. It got worst, te ground, she was on started to move, then crack, the entire place of the dream, the flowers, the ground, the remains of the workshop started to collapse. Not only that but the extremity of the dream started to collapse on the nothing, it didn't stop there, piece by piece was cracking and failing, soon it would reach the place where she was….

If she was going to fall, she was going to take someone with her, the tree that was at the end of the garden had not fallen, the angle it was allowed for her to climb it and …. Maybe…. She run, transforming the burial blade at it's scythe mode again, the ground cracking even more, she reached the tree, she didn't even need to climb, it was at a diagonal. She couldn't diminish her speed, each of her steps was calculated and quick, she had no margin of mistake… In no time, the end of the tree was reached, there was it, with no hesitation, she jumped….

She immediately quickstep at the direction of the Moon Presence, it was above her the draining was much stronger….. it was still distant…..again….. again…. again….. again…. Everything of her was hurting, she couldn't give up, just one more time…

The Moon Presence wasn't expecting for the hunter, to reach the place where it was, neither for it to be capable to attack. So when the scythe hit it in the middle of it's body, it lost it's posture and started to fall with the hunter. As she was failing, she could see the entire dream crumbling to the nothing bellow, it felt good, she felt happy by watching the place where she was molded being gone.

She passed at incredible speed at the debris, it was over, now she would have to just wait for the fall to end, for all to finally end. She couldn't see the ground just gray clouds at the "ground", also it didn't appear she was approaching then, the only thing that could mark her descent was the giant tree that the hunter workshop was located above. There was a problem, not her failing to her death, she had no problem with that, down bellow here was the Moon Presence, failing to, it hadn't died and she was pretty sure that it was looking at her.

The blobs of meat started to appear in front of her enemy, very soon the first of then start to approach her, she weirdly dodged it. Moving on the air was very complicated, she could open her arms and legs to slow her descent and to move to any of direction, she would move her entire body to the direction she wanted to go, it was so strange. She was hit by one of the blobs of meats, the strange mixture of bones and meat hit her on the legs, it destroyed her entire left thigh.

She injected some blood vials and started to move using the quickstep, now it become much easier to dodge and she felt a lesser draining then when she was fighting on the ground. Her scythe was still with her, the blunderbuss too, now she just needed to end this fight….. just one more time.

The speed of her descent was doubled as she used quickstep to help dodge the obstacle and was getting a good amount, still she need to be faster. No more turning to the sides, the only way is forward, any dodge was going to be done by going forward, she need this speed.

She was getting closer, she prepared the scythe and herself, she would do something stupid again, this would likely destroy her body but the amount of damage that it would do… She was getting close, she could feel the arms of the creature preparing to attack her as she approached then she turned around and quickstep at the direction her back was, the most she could.

She appeared behind the Old Being, just like she did before, put this time, she was at full speed of a free-fall, making her sudden turn a good shock on her body. It didn't matter, what mattered was her next attack, it landed beautifully.

It screamed even louder than before, it's entire lower body had been cut, she could swear that the legs were still moving as they were separate limbs, making her going up, dodging any chance of her enemy to retaliate. The problem of this action as that she didn't thought that other things were failing at a higher speed, she noticed that soon, just as a blob of meat that looked more like a stalagmite pierced her.

The amount of pain she was suffering was immeasurable, even more by her attempts to remove this mass of bones that had destroyed her spine and guts. Her legs weren't responding or she was in such much pain that she wasn't noticing then, she could only use one hand to try to remove the other holding the scythe…Her hand was drenched in blood by that it was slipping, she was punching beside a gigantic amount of pain, it wasn't budging from it's position.

The Moon Presence was sending even more blobs of meat, she was barely dodging it, each quickstep she did the pain increased and she was getting more weak. The blood vials, she was injecting weren't managing to stop the bleeding from the hole, she had neither close as she couldn't manage to remove it.

There was only one solution, to kill it's enemy before she died of blood loss, a last attack….. what a weird sensation….. not of anger, despair or fear just peace, she was almost happy, time for a last dance…. just one last time.

She started to quickstep as before, the notion that this would be her last moments, made her pain diminish to nothing. Without problems she dodged all the obstacles send in her direction, she was faster then before, more agile, what a burden the fear of death was.

Never fail in complacency, that is instead of doing a quickstep and attacking the back of the old one for extra damage, she fell at it like a bullet. It wasn't expecting it, as it's head was turning when she her scythe pierced as a lance, it was expecting an attack in the back. This time it didn't scream in pain, the only way of noticing the damage was the amount of blood that was being expelled from the point of impact. It was like an inverted waterfall, the scythe was stuck at the chest but the amount of blood emanating was making her drenched in red.

One of the arms of the Moon Presence immediately picked her, instead of smashing or slashing her with the other arm, it's just hold it with it's hand. Her last attack hadn't been fatal, even with the amount of blood, that the wound was making it hasn't been enough to finish this thing….. The Old One it approached the hunter of it's face and…

She wasn't failing anymore, neither she was at the arms of the Moon Presence, she was in the middle of creepers, that were black and full of thorns. How she arrived at this place? why her wound had disappeared? why her clothes and weapons had changed? What was happening? STOP…. She had to first get out of whatever place she was, then she would start to question more, one thing at time.

Her weapon was the saw cleaver, it looked exactly like the one she received when she started the hunt…she tested against one of the vines and it immediately cut it. She advanced in this tangle of vines cutting the ones ahead of her, she didn't know the direction, she was going but anyplace outside of this plants would be a good one.

As she advanced, some of the thorns of the vines started to damage the clothes, strangely they didn't hurt the nameless skin, then the weapon started to cut with more difficult than until it break. The hunter attire was in shambles, most of it was destroyed, the rest was clinging to the skin, thanks to some miracle.

She stopped, it was impossible to advance, she had lost the attire that was partly protecting her from the vines and the weapon to cut then. They weren't strong enough to survive against this vines, something stronger would be need it… Suddenly her attire and weapon had changed to a Cainhurst Attire and the Chikage… how?….. She continued to cut, she would make the questions latter.

There was no way quantify her advance, so she didn't know how long she was cutting but as before her clothes and weapon started to wasn't long that, she was again with shambles and a broken weapon. Now would be great to have something that was more sturdy and…. The attire of the Powder Kegs and the Stake Driver immediately appeared at the nameless body. It seems that, she just need to wish for something here and she would get it…

Every time, she wished for a better way to open this thing, some attire of some workshop appeared along a weapon, it never repeated and it was only with weapons she had seen. She lost account of the several times, her attire and weapon were gone and she change then by another, it was doing fine…..until it ended. Stake driver, the Arm of the weird being, the Cane…... all had been used, all possible attire that she had worn had been gone. Nothing was left…

There she was at the middle of a tangle of webs, all the weapons and attires she had used destroyed and still no way of escaping this place. At least all the things that were broken and ripped apart weren't her body….. She moved her hand to touch one of the thorns, it didn't hurt her or even pierced her skin, she tried to push the vines apart with her hands but they didn't even budge.

She picked the remains of her weapon and put it closer to the thorns, it destroyed the remains as it took some damage of it's own. They could only destroy what was a threat to then, her hands weren't a threat, neither her skin, neither her body… and neither her. Only the instruments she used were something that could open the way, things that could be used by anyone. Her body had no value, neither herself, the only thing that it mattered was things external to the nameless.

It never mattered, she was chosen by pure coincidence, a personality was created to help at the start but no at the end, everything that she was, wasn't hers. It was all suited and designed to appeal to others made by others, the nameless was just a conduit to that a puppet waiting for it's strings to be pulled.

The vines would never be destroyed by her hands, because they were never a threat to others, she was never a threat to others….. Because there was no "she", the nameless wasn't a person but an instrument of the will of others, not different from a gun, it mattered who was wielding not the object. The figure that was slowly curling up in the ground at the middle of the vines, discovered that a long time ago but never thought about that until now, for some reason this thoughts were running throughout it's head.

Desires of vengeance and retribution…. It was all for others, nothing belonged to the nameless, even the mistakes that it caused, was just the instructions of others. How can someone blame an axe for cutting a tree down?

Even with the nameless resign to it's place and way, something was wrong at this line of thought… if only the things that could hurt the vines were destroyed by the thorns, why the attire were destroyed? Why the weapons remained were gone, they didn't pose a threat anymore…. Doll was at the same state of the hunter but….. Why Doll chose in the end to sacrifice itself for the hunter, how can an object disrupts the will of it's user? Why Simon told the nameless the truth if it wouldn't matter in the end, because how can an object disrupts the will of it's user? Why Eillen tried to convince the nameless to turn away and escape the hunt, how can an object disrupt the will of it's user? Then how could SHE had resisted the Moon Presence, caused damage and threw a wrench on it's plan because how can an object disrupt the will of it's user, even if anything that she think and did was set up... there had to be something that was her... but of course there was... myself.

BECAUSE I AM NOT A OBJECT, I risen from the ground, strength and determination flowing through all my body I took the vines with my hands and started to put pressure and it snapped, now the thorns were causing damage. One by one, I started to yell as I did this action, I need to shout my realization "I was thinking it wrong, it isn't my memories that affirm my being, neither a name, this is all just concepts. I thought that I need to be to exist but I only need to exist to be."

Vine by vine were removed, blood was now spilling from all of my body, I didn't stop talking "My existence isn't a good or decent one, I am a monster, that need to be punished at all moments of it's life but I am and that is something that no one can remove of me. Not you, not Yharnam or the hunt, my existence belong to me and no one else, because if it didn't all of the suffering that I inflicted on others would be for nothing and the hopes that others put on me would be for nothing... I can't allow that to happen."

The vines stopped, I was not in the middle of then anymore, neither I was dressed in tatters while bleeding all over my body. Failing, that was the first sensation and a familiar one, I didn't need to look at myself to know what my clothes were. What was that I just experienced? Some sort of illusion by the Moon Presence? A hallucination created by my loss of blood? My mind finally breaking? Whatever it was, it helped, it was like a weight had been lifted, a persistent noise that turn in a silence, a wound that finally heal.

Still…. Still there was one last thing, the Moon Presence was still alive, she was very bellow the hunter, it was missing the entire lower half and had still the scythe trespassing the body but still moving. I am tired, why couldn't let it go? It had suffered more than it will in it's life, it would probably take uncountable years to return to it's apex of power. Was it enough punishment? For making me this thing, for destroying the life of others countless beings… The answer was very obvious, I sighed….. just one more time….. one more time.

I checked my clothes, I had no scythe, gun, knife or even gunpowder, I had only two empty blood vials, two syringes against an old god. I prepared myself a syringe in each hand, My arms were put closer to my body, I started to gain speed, I was ready.

It wasn't expecting me, the first syringe is gone quickly at the body of the thing, I put my left hand at the "neck" of the thing, I need support for what I will do next. I stab the other one at that disgusting face, one, two, three, four… I lost the math at this moment I am just stabbing, I feel something crushing my chest, I don't stop with the stabs. Blood start to spill into my mouth, all of my body is hurting like it's being squeezed, I won't stop…. I continue at this point there is no more syringe, I am punching the face, I can't feel my fingers neither my hand, I only feel my arm moving up and down, up and down. The pressure is unbearable, I stop punching, I retreat my left hand, I don't need the support anymore, being squeezed was making my place stable.

I don't punch, I stick my hand at the battered face of the Old One like I would do a riposte, this time, it's not to grab and push. I also stick the remains of my right hand, both entered easily at the flesh then I started to open my arms. It screamed so loud and the pressure increased, I felt my bones breaking one by one, I continue to push, the only thing in my mind was my arms…. My vision was getting blooded and hazy…..

It's said that you see life going between your eyes when you die, according to my implanted memories, I have never experienced that on my multiples deaths. I knew that in moments I would die, my heart would be crushed, my brain shutting down soon after. This time I wouldn't wake up in the dream, my existence would be gone, I cannot fathom that concept but it don't feel scary, it feel comforting…. Just a few more seconds and all would be over….then it stopped.

The pressure was gone, death hasn't come for me but for the Moon Presence, it was dead, a god had been killed. I release my hands from the almost split head, I let myself to be disconnected of the corpse, it didn't vanish or it's blood came at my direction it continued to fall. As all things on my life, I expected more, as I was seeing the corpse failing even more quickly to the unending abyss that we both were.

* * *

"This worked better then we could predict"

 _"Much better? This has gone perfectly, one of our enemies is dead, there influences on this world has been destroyed, all of their assets had been killed or disposed, the only thing left is the remains of city_

"I have a plan for that, I would need the assistance of some of your assets."

 _"What a great thing, of course I would give help, tell me the plan first….._

"I am wounded, don't you trust on me?"

 _"Neither you on me."_

"Fair, but before I detail to you, what about her?"

 _"Her? Strange question, she has done all that she could do for us, there is nothing more… oh, well I see what you mean but that make her one of your assets….._

"Asset? I am just preventing the born of one of our enemies, she has consumed the umbilical cords, it will turn her on one of then if she stay at the place. We just need to change the place, where she is residing and everything will be fine."

 _"I agree with you, then how about the interior of yellow dwarf?"_

"It would be a waste don't you think?"

 _"Waste of what? I thought that you wanted to prevent her transformation, my suggestion is the best way for it, in milliseconds would be over, with no chances to alter any of my plans or yours._

"I was thinking another place, where we could use her, she has managed to kill one of our enemies, why use her to take down another one?"

 _"Don't try to trick me, with such a weak lie, I know very well to where you intend to put her, nothing on that place is even close to one of our enemies… Alright there is something that it has similarities but only that._

"Of course you would say that, if it succeed, it will be a win for you."

 _"It happen….. so will you want her?"_

"Yes, she will fit perfectly at my plans"

 _"So you know what that means then?"_

"Go ahead and pick one for you too"

 _"I will, I will…_

* * *

What is that? I extend my hand to catch before it vanish, it's a piece of paper…. I was wrong it isn't paper it's parchment, it has a hunter symbol on it. I know what this is…. it's a bold hunter's mark, it allow a hunter to awaken with the blood echoes it's carrying.

Strange that I found it here but it's useless, I had used this before, I always awaken on the hunter workshop. Now that the dream is destroyed…. It wouldn't work? But if it did where I would go? With certain, a better place then an undying fall… but then what? What I would do? My job has been achieved, kill all the beasts and my vengeance too, what is left for me? There is only one thing left for me…suffering, whatever I go, I will seek for it, I can be a being but that doesn't excuse my actions.

Staying on this situation is to good for me… This is paradise, there is nothing around, no sounds, smells or anything to look at beside the same gray clouds bellow that I never got closer. This absolute and total nothing, I can hardly feel my body or myself. This is to good for me, I will continue to another world, there will be shot, slashed, broken, burn, mangled and much more. When my time come by a small mistake or an impossible odd, I will die with a smile on my face, because this is what wait me…. I press the mark against my face…..just one more time.

It's over, my first **story is over, I don't know how to feel about it, beside feeling that the story could always improve both in grammar or plot but I had been holding this chapter so much... it's best to make it real then to keep perfect in my head.**

 **As it's the end of the story, it's complete, the plot, the themes and the character had all been explored to their maximum on this "installment", "book"? I will write a sequence where the Hunter go to Remmant, the part that all of you are excited to read... I already know why, all of you want to see the reactions of the other characters seeing this "Ruby" and how edgy she is... oh boy I will disappoint a lot of people.  
**

 **Writing this story was like navigating a ship that is slowly sinking, I knew where I wanted to go but as the travel went along, people got out( I had 3 betas), a good amount of hiatus, a ton of rewrites( Someday I will rewrite the first chapter again) and a ever increasing payload of work that made writing a fanfic pretty hard. Actually my analogy was horrible forget about it, it has nothing to do with a ship.**

 **This story was all planed from the start, I lied on on some author notes, a author that is creating a story chapter by chapter is incapable of putting themes or good twists on the story. This type of things take a long time... I wonder how many of you didn't noticed that I never said the word Ruby beside the small chapter that passed on Remmant.**

 **So... the more important question is when the sequel will come out... I want to write something before I write the sequel, either will be something in relation of how much of a personality of someone is earned from the parents and how much the sins of the parents weight on the children this would appear on this site. Or how a stagnant society continue to exist through inertia but it's extreme fragile as it will proved when it fall by a individual not dying that is authorial(The way that the book market is set, it will never see the light of day)... or if one of my friends insist probably something about being incapable of changing due to the past and ponies.  
**


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